THE MODEL 



SPEAKER- RECITER 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 




LETTER OF THANKS FOR BEAUTIFUL ROSES. 



THE MODEL 

SPEAKER AND RECITER 

BEING 

A Standard Work on Composition 
and Oratory 

CONTAINING 

RULES FOR EXPRESSING WRITTEN THOUGHT IN A CORRECT AND 

ELEGANT MANNER; SELECTIONS FROM THE MOST FAMOUS 

. AUTHORS; SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS AND HOW TO 

TREAT THEM; USE OF ILLUSTRATIONS; DESCRIPTIVE, 

PATHETIC AND HUMOROUS WRITINGS, ETC., ETC. 

TOGETHER WITH A 

Peerless Collection of Readings and Recitations 

FROM AUTHORS OF WORLD-WIDE RENOWN, FOR PUBLIC SCHOOLS 

ACADEMIES, COLLEGES, LODGES, SUNDAY-SCHOOL AND 

SOCIAL ENTERTAINMENTS 

THE WHOLE FORMING AN 

UNRIVALED SELF=EDUCATOR FOR YOUNG PEOPLE 

By Henry Davenport Northrop 

Author of" Delsarte Manual of Oratory,'' " Golden Gleanings of'poetry, Prose and Song," etc., etc. 



Embellished with Numerous Engravings 







ENTERED ACCORDING TO ACT OF CONGRE--6 IN THE YEAR 1910, BY 

GEO. W. BERTRON 

IN TH; OFFICE OF THE LIBRARIAN OF CONGRESS, AT WASHINGTON, D. D.. U. I. A, 



CCI.A265126 



PREFACE. 



A /I ILLIONS of young people in America are being educated, and hence 

i V 1 there is a very great demand for a Standard Work showing how to 

express written thought in the most elegant manner, and how to 

read and recite in a way that insures the greatest success. To meet this 

enormous demand is the aim of this volume. 

Part I. — How to Write a Composition. — The treatment of this sub- 
ject is masterly and thorough, and is so fascinating that the study becomes a 
delight. Rules and examples are furnished for the right choice of words, for 
constructing sentences, for punctuation, for acquiring an elegant style of com- 
position, for writing essays and letters, what authors should be read, etc. 
The directions given are all right to the point and are easily put into practice. 

The work contains a complete list of synonyms, or words of similar mean- 
ing, and more than 500 choice subjects for compositions, which are admirably 
suited to persons of all ages. These are followed by a charming collection of 
Masterpieces of Composition by such world-renowned authors as Emerson, 
Hawthorne, George Kliot, Lord Macaulay, Washington Irving, C. H. Spur- 
geon, Sarah J. Lippincott, Mrs. Stowe and many others. 

These grand specimens of composition bear the stamp of the most bril- 
liant genius. They are very suggestive and helpful. They inspire the 
reader to the noblest efforts, and teach the truth of Bulwer Lytton's well- 
known saying that " the pen is mightier than the sword." 

Part II. — Readings and Recitations. — The second part of this in- 
comparable work is no less valuable, and a candid perusal will convince you 
that it contains the largest and best collection of recitations ever brought 
together in one volume. These are of every variety and description. Be 
careful to notice that every one of these selections, which are from the writings 
of the world's best authors, is especially adapted for reading and reciting. 
This is something which cannot be said of any similar work. 



iv PREFACE. 

All the Typical Gestures used in Reciting are shown by choice engrav- 
ings, and the reader has in reality the best kind of teacher right before him. 
The different attitudes, facial expressions and gestures are both instructive 
and charming. These are followed by Recitations with Lesson Talks. Full 
directions are given for reciting the various pieces, and this is done by taking 
each paragraph or verse of the selection and pointing out the gestures, tone 
of voice, emphasis, etc., required to render it most effectively. The Lesson 
Talks render most valuable service to all who are studying the grand art of 
oratory. 

The next section of this masterly volume contains Recitations with 
Music. This is a choice collection of readings which are rendered most effec- 
tive by accompaniments of music, enabling the reader by the use of the voice 
or some musical instrument to entrance his audience. 

These charming selections are followed by a superb collection of Patriotic 
Recitations which celebrate the grand victories of our army and navy in the 
Philippines and West Indies. These incomparable pieces are all aglow with 
patriotic fervor and are eagerly sought by all elocutionists. 

There is space here only to mention the different parts of this delightful 
volume, such as Descriptive and Dramatic Recitations , Orations by Famous 
Orators ; a peerless collection of Humorous and Pathetic Recitations. 

Thus it is seen that this is a ver}?- comprehensive work. Not only is it 
carefully prepared, not only does it set a very high standard of excellence in 
composition and elocution, but it is a work peculiarly fitted to the wants of 
millions of young people throughout our country. The writer of this is free 
to say that such a work as this would have been of inestimable value to him 
while obtaining an education. All wise parents who wish to make the best 
provision for educating their children should understand that they have in 
this volume such a teacher in composition and oratory as has never before 
been offered to the public. 

Special 



CONTENTS. 



9@S><r©<3=-* 



PART 1.— HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



a reatment of the Subject 

Right Choice of Words 

Obscure Sentences . 

Write Exactly what You Mean .... • . 

What You Should Read 

Our Great Writers 

Learning to Think 

How to Acquire a Captivating Style. . . . 
Make Your Composition Attractive . . . 

The Choice of Language 

Faults in Writing 

Putting Words into Sentences 

Suit the Word to the Thought 

An Amusing Exercise . 

Errors to be Avoided 

Exercises in Composition 

Subject and Predicate . . , . 

Practice in Simple Sentences 

Sentences Combined 

Punctuation 

The Full Stop 

The Note of Interrogation 

The Comma 

The Semicolon * - 

Quotation Marks - . 

The Note of Exclamation . 

Exercises in Easy Narratives 

Short Stories to be Written from Memory 
Outlines to be Turned into Narratives . . 
Stories in Verse to be Turned into Prose . 
"hree Fishers Went Sailing 



PAGE 
18 
19 

19 
20 
21 
21 
22 
23 
24 
25 
26 
27 
28 
29 
30 
32 
32 
34 
36 
39 
39 
40 
40 
42 
43 
43 
46 
47 
50 
51 
51 



PAGE 

The Sands of Dee 52 

The Way to Win 52 

Press On 52 

The Dying Warrior 52 



The Boy that Laughs 

The Cal's Bath 

The Beggar Man 

The Shower Bath 

Queen Mary's Return to Scotland 



53 
53 
53 

54 
54 



The Eagle and Serpent 54 

Ask and Have 55 

What Was His Creed? 55 

The Old Reaper 55 

The Gallant Sailboat 55 

Wooing o& 

Miss Laugh and Miss Fret 56 

Monterey 56 

A Woman's Watch . . . , 57 

Love Lightens Labor 57 

Abou Ben Adhem 57 

Essays to be Written from Outlines 58 

Easy Subjects for Compositions 61 

Use of Illustrations 62 

Examples of Apt Illustrations 63 

Examples of Faulty Illustrations 63 

How to Compose and Write Letters 64 

Examples of Letters 6J» 

Notes of Invitation » . . 6Ls 

Letters of Congratulation 66 

Love Letters . „ . . 66 

Outlines to be Expanded into Letters ..... 66 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



Setting the Right Start J. G. Holland 67. 

Dinah, the Methodist George Eliot 69 

Godfrey and Dunstan George Eliot 70 

Rip Van Winkle Washington Irving 72 

Puritans of the Sixteenth Century Lord Macaulay 73 

On being in Time C.H. Spurgeon 75 



John Ploughman's Talk on Home C H. Spurgeon 
Pearl and her Mother . Nathaniel Hawthorne 

Candace's Opinions Mrs. H. B. Stowe 

Midsummer in the Valley of the Rhine 

Geo. Meredith 
Power of Natural Beauty . . . R. W Etnerr,on 



76 
78 
80 

81 



SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS. 



Historical Subjects 84 

Biographical Subjects 85 

Subjects for Narration and Description .... 86 

Popular Proverbs 87 

Subjects to be Expounded 87 



Subjects for Argument 86 

Subjects for Comparison 89 

Miscellaneous Subjects 90 

Synonyms and Antonyms 91 

Noms de Plume of Authors. ■ ill 



^ 



CONTENTS. 



PART II.— READINGS AND RECITATIONS. 



How to Read and Recite ] 13 

Cultivation of the Voice 113 

Distinct Enunciation 113 

Emphasis 114 

Pauses 114 

Gestures 114 

The Magnetic Speaker 114 

Self-Command 114 

Typical Gestures for Reading and Reciting . . 115 

Malediction 115 

Designating • • ' 115 

Silence 115 

Repulsion ....... . . . 115 

Declaring „ 116 

Announcing , 116 

Discerning , t ... 116 

Invocation 117 

Presenting or Receiving 117 

Horror 117 



8MM 

Exaltation 117 

Secrecy 117 

Wonderment ng 

Indecision ng 

Grief „ , ng 

Gladness ng 

Signalling , 119 

Tender Rejection •. 119 

Protecting— Soothing 119 

Anguish ug 

Awe— Appeal 120 

Meditation ]20 

Defiance 120 

Denying— Rejecting 120 

Dispersion 121 

Remorse ]21 

Accusation 121 

Revealing 121 

Correct Positions of the Hands ........ 122 



RECITATIONS WITH LESSON TALKS. 



Song of Our Soldiers at Santiago . . D.G. Adee. 123 

Lesson Talk 123 

The Victor of Marengo . . . . . . 124 

Lesson Talk 125 

The Wedding Fee 125 



Lesson Talk •. . . . 126 

The Statue in Clay 127 

Lesson Talk ....<,... 127 

The Puzzled Boy .. , 128 

Lesson Talk 1 * ..... . 128 



RECITATIONS WITH MUSIC. 



Twickenham Ferry 129 

Grandmother's Chair John Read 130 

Put Your Shoulder to the Wheel . . H. Clifton 131 
A Brighter Day is Coming . . Ellen Burnside 132 



Katie's Love Letter Lady Duffer in 132 

Dost Thou Love Me, Sister Ruth ? . John Parry 139 

Two Little Rogues Mrs. A. M. Diaz 13/ 

Arkansaw Pete's Adventure ....... . 13{? 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



The Beat of the Drum at Daybreak 

Michael O'Connor 137 

The Cavalry Charge 137 

Great Naval Battle at Santiago 

Admiral W. S. Schley 138 

Hobson's Daring Deed 139 

General Wheeler at Santiago . . . J. L. Gordon 140 

f he Flag Goes By 140 

In Manila Bay Chas. Wadsworth, Jr. 141 

My Soldier Boy . 142 

The Yankees in Battle . Captain R.'D. Evans 142 
The Banner Betsey Made . . . T. C. Harbaitgh 143 

Our Flag . . Chas. F. A, sop 144 

That Starry Flag of Ours 144 

The Negro Soldier B. M. Chann.ng 145 

Deeds of Valor at Santiago . . Clinton Scollard 145 



146 



A Race for Dear Life 

Patriotism of American Women 

T. B>u:hanan Read 147 

Our Country's Call ' Richard Barry 147 

The Story of Seventy-Six . . W.C. Bryant 148 

The Roll Call 148 

The Battle- Field W. C Bryant 149 

The Sinking of the Meri'j. ac 150 

The Stars and Stripes 151 

Rodney's Ride . ' 152 

A Spool of Thread .... Sophia E. Eastman 153 

The Young Patriot, Abraham Lincoln 154 

Columb : a Joel Barlow 155 

Captain Molly at Monmouth William Collins 156 
Doughs to the Populace of Stirling 

Sir Walter Scotl 15/ 



CONTENTS. 



vu 



PAGE 

Our Country W.G. Peabodie 157 

McTlrath of Malate John J. Rooney 158 

After the Battle 159 

Great Naval Battle of Manila 160 

Sinking of the Ships . ..... W. B. Collison 161 



PAGE 

Perry's Celebrated Victory on Lake Erie . . . 163 

Capture of Quebec James D. McCabe 164 

Little Jean Lillie E. Barr 165 

Defeat of General Braddock . James D. McCabe 166 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



Quick ! Man the Life Boat 

Beautiful Hands 

The Burning Ship . . 

The Unknown Speaker 



167 

./. Whitcomb Riley 167 

168 

169 



Child Lost 171 

The Captain and the Fireman . . W. B. Collison 172 
The Face on the Floor . . . H. Antoine D'Arcy 173 

The Engineer's Story Eugene J. Hall 174 

Jim James Whitcomb Riley 175 

Queen Vashti's Lament John Reade 176 

The Skeleton's Story 177 

The Lady and the Earl 179 

My Vesper Song 180 

The Volunteer Organist S. W. Foss 180 

Comin' thro' the Rye Robert Burns 181 

Joan of Arc . .' Clare S. McKinley 181 

The Vulture of the Alps 183 

The Old-fashioned Girl torn Hall 184 

Nathan Hale, the Martyr Spy . . . I. H. Brown 184 

The Future Rudyard Kipling 186 

The Power of Habit John B. Gough 186 



Died on Duty 187 

My Friend the Cricket and I . . Lillie E. Barr 188 

The Snowstorm 188 

Parrhasius and the Captive . . . . N. P. Willis 189 

The Ninety-third off Cape Verde 190 

A Felon's Cell .' 191 

The Battle of Waterloo Victor Hugo 192 

A Pin Ella Wheeler Wilcox 194 

A Relenting Mob Lucy H. Hooper 195 

The Black Horse and His Rider . Chas. Sheppard 196 

The Unfinished Letter 198 

Legend of the Organ Builder .Julius C. R. Dorr 198 
Caught in the Quicksand . . . Victor Hugo 200 

The Little Quaker Sinner . Lucy L. Montgomery 201 

The Tell-tale Heart Edgar Allan Poe 202 

The Little Match Girl Hans Andersen 203 

The Monk's Vision 205 

The Boat Race 205 

Phillips of Pelhamville . . Alexander Anderson 207 
Poor kittle Jim ... 208 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



True Moral Courage Henry Clay 209 

The Struggle for Liberty .... Josiah Quincy 210 
Centennial Oration .. . . Henry Armitt Brown 211 
Speech of Shrewsbury before Queen Elizabeth 

F. Von Schiller 212 
Prospects of the Republic . . . Edward Everett 212 
The People Always Conquer . . Edward Everett 213 
Survivors of Bunker Hill . . . Daniel Webster 214 
South Carolina and Massachusetts 

Daniel Webster 215 
Eulogium on South Carolina . Robert T. Hayne 216 
Character of Washington . . . Wendell Phillips 217 



National Monument to Washington 

Robert C. Winthrop 218 
'The New Woman .... Frances E. Willard 219 
An Appeal for Liberty . 
True Source of Freedom 
Appeal to Young Men . 
The Pilgrims .... 
Patriotism a Reality 
The Glory of Athens 
The Irish Church . 



. . . .Joseph Story 220 
. Edwin H. Chapin 220 
. . Lyman Beecher 221 
Chauncey M. Depew 222 
Thomas Meagher 223 
. . Lord Macaulay 224 
William E, Gladstone 225 
Appeal to the Hungarians . . . Louis Kossuth 226 
The Tyrant Verres Denounced Cicero 227 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



Bill's in Trouble 229 

"Spaciallyjim" 229 

The Marriage Ceremony 230 

Blasted Hopes 230 

Tim Murphy Makes a Few Remarks 231 

Passing of the Horse 231 

A School-D».y W. F. McSparran 232 

the Bicycla and the Pup 233 



The Puzzled Census Taker 23? 

It Made a Difference 23'd 

Bridget O'Flannagan on Christian Science and 

Cockroaches M. Bourchier 234 

Conversational 235 

Wanted, A Minister's Wife 235 

How a Married Man Sews on a Button 

/. M. Bailey 236 



vm 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Dutchman's Serenade 236 

Biddy's Troubles 237 

The Inventor's Wife .... Mrs. E. T. Corbett 238 
Miss Edith Helps Things Along . . Bret Harte 239 
The Man Who Has All Diseases at Once 

Dr. Valentine 240 
The School-Ma'am's Courting. . Florence Pyatt 240 

The Dutchman's Snake 241 

No Kiss 243 

The Lisping Lover 243 

Larry O'Dee W. W. Fink 243 

How Paderewski Plays the Piano .... 244 

The Freckled-Faced Girl 244 

When Girls Wore Calico .... Hatlie Whiney 245 



PAGE 

A Winning Company 246 

The Bravest Sailor . . . Ella Wheeler Wilcox 246 

How She Was Consoled 247 

That Hired Girl 247 

What Sambo Says 248 

The Irish Sleigh Ride 248 

Jane Jones Ben King 249 

De Ole Plantation Mule 249 

Adam Never Was a Boy . . . T. C. Harbaugh 250 

A Remarkable Case of S'posin' 251 

My Parrot Emma H. Webb 252 

Bakin and Greens 252 

Hunting a Mouse Joshua Jenkins 253 

The Village Sewing Society 254 




COQUETRY 




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HUNGARIAN STREET MUSICIANS. 

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ALAS, HOW LIGHT A CAUSE MAY MOVE 
DISSENSION BETWEEN HEARTS TH-T LOVE 



PART I. 

How to Write a Composition 



AND 



Express Written Thought in a Correct and Elegant Manner. 




e; 



HE correct and pleasing expression of 
one's thoughts in writing is an ac- 
complishment of the highest order. 
To have little or no ability in the art of 
composition is a great misfortune. 

Who is willing to incur the disgrace and 
mortification of being unable to write a 
graceful and interesting letter, or an essay 
worthy to be read by intelligent persons? 
What an air of importance belongs to the 
young scholar, or older student, who can pen 
a production excellent in thought and beau- 
tiful in language ! Such a gifted individual 
becomes almost a hero or heroine. 

When I was a pupil in one of our public 
schools the day most dreaded by all of the 
scholars was " composition day." What to 
write about, and how to do it, were the most 
Vexatious of all questions. Probably nine- 
tenths of the pupils would rather have mas- 
tered the hardest lessons, or taken a sound 



whipping, than to attempt to write one para- 
graph of a composition on any subject. 

While some persons have a natural faculty 
for putting their thoughts into words, a much 
larger number of others are compelled to 
confess that it is a difficult undertaking, and 
they are never able to satisfy themselves with 
their written productions. 

Let it be some encouragement to you to 
reflect that many who are considered excel- 
lent writers labored in the beginning under 
serious difficulties, yet, being resolved to 
master them, they finally achieved the most 
gratifying success. When Napoleon was told 
it would be impossible for his army to cross 
the bridge at Lodi, he replied, " There is no 
such word as impossible," and over the 
bridge his army went. Resolve that you 
will succeed, and carry out this good reso- 
lution by close application and diligent prac- 
tice. " Labor conquers all things," 



WHAT TO DO, AND HOW TO DO IT. 




TUDY carefully the lessons con- 
tained in the following pages. 
They will be of great benefit, as 
they show you what to do and how to do it. 
These lessons are quite simple at first, and 
are followed by others that are more ad- 
vanced. All of them have been carefully pre- 
pared for the purpose of furnishing just such 
helps as you need. You can study them by 



yourself; if you can obtain the assistance of 
a competent teacher, so much the better. I 
predict that you will be surprised at the rapid 
progress you are making. Perhaps you will 
become fascinated with your study ; at least, 
it is to be hoped you will, and become en> 
thusiastic in your noble work. 

Be content to take one step at a time. Do 
not get the mistaken impression that you 

17 



id 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



will be able to write a good composition 
before you have learned how to do it. Many 
persons are too eager to achieve success 
immediately, without patient and earnest 
endeavor to overcome all difficulties. 

Choose a subject for your composition that 
is adapted to your capacity. You cannot 
write on a subject that you know nothing 
about. Having selected your theme, think 
upon it, and, if possible, read what others 
have written about it, not for the purpose of 
stealing their thoughts, but to stimulate your 
own, and store your mind with information. 
Then you will be able to express in writing 
what you know. 

The Treatment of the Subject. 

The principal reason why many persons 
make such hard work of the art of composi- 
tion is that they have so few thoughts, and 
consequently so little to say, upon the sub- 
jects they endeavor to treat. The same rule 
must be followed in writing a composition as 
in building a house — you must first get your 
materials. 

I said something about stealing the 
thoughts of others, but must qualify this by 
saying that while you are learning to write, 
you are quite at liberty in your practice to 
make use of the thoughts of others, writing 
them from memory after you have read a 
page or a paragraph from some standard 
author. It is better that you should remem- 
ber only a part of the language employed by 
the writer whose thoughts you are reproduc- 
ing, using as far as possible words of your 
own, yet in each instance wherein you 
remember his language you need not hesitate 
to use it. Such an exercise is a valuable aid 
to all who wish to perfect themselves in the 
delightful ait of composition. 

Take any writer of good English-— J. G. 
Holland, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Irving, 
Cooper, or the articles in our best magazines 



— and read half a page twice or thrice ; close 
the book, and write, in your own words, 
what you have read ; borrowing, nevertheless, 
from the author so much as you can remem- 
ber. Compare what you have written with 
the original, sentence by sentence, and word 
by word, and observe how far you have fallen 
short of the skilful author. 

A Frequent Change of Authors. 

You will thus not only find out your own 
faults, but you will discover where they lie, 
and how they may be mended. Repeat the 
lesson with the same passages twice or 
thrice, if your memory is not filled with the 
words of the author, and observe, at each 
trial, the progress you have made, not merely 
by comparison with the original, but by com- 
parison with the previous exercises. 

Do this day after day, changing your 
author for the purpose of varying the style, 
and continue to do so long after you have 
passed on to the second and more advanced 
stages of your training. Preserve all your 
exercises, and occasionally compare the latest 
with the earliest, and so ascertain what pro- 
gress you have made. 

Give especial attention to the words, which, 
to my mind, are of greater importance than 
the sentences. Take your nouns first, and 
compare them with the nouns used by your 
author. You will probably find your words 
to be very much bigger than his, more 
sounding, more far-fetched, more classical, 
or more poetical. All young writers and 
speakers fancy that they cannot sufficiently 
revel in fine words. Comparison with the 
great masters of English will rebuke this 
pomposity of inexperience, and chasten and 
improve your style. 

You will discover, to your surprise, that 
our best writers eschew big words and do 
not aim to dazzle their readers with fine 
words. Where there is a choice, they pre- 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



19 



far tne pure, plain, simple English noun — 
the name by which the thing is known to 
everybody, and which, therefore, is instantly 
understood by all readers. These great 
authors call a spade " a spade ; " only small 
scribblers term it "an implement of hus- 
bandry." If there is a choice of names, 
good writers prefer the one best known, 
while an inexperienced writer is apt to select 
the most uncommon. 

The example of the masters of the English 
tongue should teach you that commonness 
(if I may be allowed to coin a word to ex- 
press that for which I can find no precise 
equivalent) and vulgarity are not the same in 
substance. Vulgarity is shown in assump- 
tion and affectation of language quite as 
much as in dress and manners, and it is 
never vulgar to be natural. Your object is 
to be understood. To be successful, you 
must write and talk in a language that every- 
body can understand ; and such is the na- 
tural vigor, picturesqueness and music of 
our tongue, that you could not possess your- 
self of a more powerful or effecti"^ instru- 
ment for expression. 

Right Choice of Words. 

It is well for you to be assured that while, 
by this choice of plain English for the em- 
bodying of your thoughts, you secure the 
ears of ordinary people, you will at the same 
time please the most highly educated and 
refined. The words that have won the ap- 
plause of a political meeting are equally 
successful in securing a hearing in Congress, 
provided that the thoughts expressed and 
the manner of their expression be adapted to 
the changed audience. 

Then for the sentences. Look closely at 
their construction, comparing it with that of 
your author ; I mean, note how you have 
put your words together. The placing of 
words is next in importance to the cboire pf 



them. The best writers preserve the natural 
order of thought. They sedulously shun 
obscurities and perplexities. They avoid 
long and involved sentences. Their rule is, 
that one sentence should express one thought, 
and they will not venture on the introduction 
of two or three thoughts, if they can help it 

Obscure Sentences. 

Undoubtedly this is extremely difficult— 
sometimes impossible. If you want to 
qualify an assertion, you must do so on the 
instant; but the rule should never be for- 
gotten, that a long and involved sentence is 
to be avoided, wherever it is practicable to 
do so. 

Another lesson you will doubtless learn 
from the comparison of your composition 
with that of your model author. You will 
see a wonderful number of adjectives in your 
own writing, and very few in his. It is the be- 
setting sin of young writers to indulge in ad- 
jectives, and precisely as a man gains ex- 
perience do his adjectives diminish in num- 
ber. It seems to be supposed by all un- 
practiced scribblers that the multiplication 
of epithets gives force. The nouns are never 
left to speak for themselves. 

It is curious to take up any newspaper 
and read the paragraphs of news, to open 
the books of nine-tenths of our authors of 
the third and downward ranks. You will 
rarely see a noun standing alone, without 
one or more adjectives prefixed. Be assured 
that this is a mistake. An adjective should 
never be used unless it is essential to correct 
description. As a general rule adjectives 
add little strength to the noun they are set 
to prop, and a multiplication of them is 
always enfeebling. The vast majority of 
nouns convey to the mind a much more ac- 
curate picture of the thing they signify than 
you can possiblv paint by attaching epithets 
to them. 



20 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



Yet do not push to the extreme what has 
just been said. Adjectives are a very im- 
portant part of language, and we could not 
well do without them. You do not need to 
say a " flowing river ; " every river flows, 
but you might wish to say a " swollen river," 
and you could not convey the idea you de- 
sire to express without using the adjective 
"swollen." What I wish to caution you 
against is the needless multiplication of ad- 
jectives, which only serve to overload and 
weaken the expression of your thought. 

Express Your Own Ideas. 

When you have repeated your lesson 
many times, and find that you can write 
with some approach to the purity of your 
author, you should attempt an original com- 
position. In the beginning it would be pru- 
dent, perhaps, to borrow the ideas, but to 
put them into your own language. The 
difficulty of this consists in the tendency of 
the mind to mistake memory for invention, 
and thus, unconsciously to copy the language 
as well as the thoughts of the author. 

The best way to avoid this is to translate 
poetry into prose; to take, for instance, a 
page of narrative in verse and relate the same 
story in plain prose ; or to peruse a page of 
didactic poetry, and set down the argument 
in a plain, unpoetical fashion. This will make 
you familiar with the art of composition, only 
to be acquired by practice ; and the advan- 
tage, at this early stage of your education in 
the arts of writing and speaking, of putting 
into proper language the thoughts of others 
rather than your own is, that you are better 
able to discover your faults. Your fatherly 
love for your own ideas is such that you are 
really incompetent to form a judgment of 
their worth, or of the correctness of the lan- 
guage in which they are embodied. 

The critics witness this hallucination every 
day. Books continually come to them, writ- 



ten by men who are not mad, who probably 
are sufficiently sensible in the ordinary busi- 
ness of life, who see clearly enough the faults 
of other books, who would have laughed 
aloud over the same pages, if placed in their 
hands by another writer, but who, neverthe- 
less, are utterly unable to recognize the ab< 
surd/^es of their own handiwork. The reader 
is surprised that any man of common intelli- 
gence could indite such a maze of nonsense, 
where the right word is never to be found in 
its right place, and this with such utter un- 
consciousness of incapacity on the part of 
the author. 

Write Exactly What You Mean. 

Still more is he amazed that, even if a sen- 
sible man could so write, a sane man could 
read that composition in print, and not with 
shame throw it into the fire. But the expla- 
nation is, that the writer knew what he in- 
tended to say ; his mind is full of that, and he 
reads from the manuscript or the type, not 
so much what is there set down, as what was 
already floating in his own mind. To criti- 
cise yourself you must, to some extent, for- 
get yourself. This is impracticable to many 
persons, and, lest it may be so with you, I 
advise you to begin by putting the thoughts 
of others into your own language, before you 
attempt to give formal expression to your 
own thoughts. 

You must habitually place your thoughts 
upon paper — first, that you may do so rap- 
idly ; and, secondly, that you may do so cor- 
rectly. When you come to write your re- 
flections, you will be surprised to find how 
loose and inaccurate the most vivid of them 
have been, what terrible flaws there are in 
your best arguments. 

You are thus enabled to correct them, and 
to compare the matured sentence with the 
rude conception of it. You are thus trained 
to weigh your words and assure yourself 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



Si 



that tuey precisely embody the idea you de- 
sire to convey. You can trace uncouthness 
in the sentences, and dislocations of thought, 
of which you had not been conscious before. 
It is far better to learn your lesson thus upon 



paper, which you can throw into the fire un- 
known to any human being, than to be 
taught it by readers who are not always very 
lenient critics and are quick to detect any 
faults that appear in your production. 



READING AND THINKING. 




"AVING accustomed yourself to ex- 
press, in plain words, and in clear, 
1 5 precise and straightforward sen- 

tences, the ideas of others, you 
should proceed to express your own thoughts 
in the same fashion. You will now see 
more distinctly the advantage of having first 
studied composition by the process I have 
recommended, for you are in a condition to 
discover the deficiencies in the flow of your 
own ideas. You will be surprised to find, 
when you come to put them into words, how 
many of your thoughts were shapeless, hazy 
and dreamy, slipping from your grasp when 
you try to seize them, resolving themselves, 
like the witches in Macbeth, 

Into the air : and what seemed corporal melted 
As breath into the wind. 

What You Should Read. 

Thus, after you have learned how to write, 
you will need a good deal of education before 
you will learn what to write. I cannot much 
assist you in this part of the business. Two 
words convey the whole lesson — Read and 
think. What should you read ? Everything. 
What think about ? All subjects that present 
themselves. The writer and orator must be 
a man of very varied knowledge. Indeed, 
for all the purposes of practical life, you can- 
not know too much. No learning is quite 
useless. But a speaker, especially if an ad- 
vocate, cannot anticipate the subjects on 
which he may be required to talk. Law is 
the least part of his discourse. For once 
that he is called upon to argue a point of 




law, he is compelled to treat matters of feet 
twenty times. 

And the range of topics is very wide ; it 
embraces science and art, history and philo- 
sophy ; above all, the knowledge of human 
nature that teaches how the mind he ad- 
dresses is to be convinced and persuaded, and 
how a willing ear is to be won to his dis- 
course. No limited range of reading will 
suffice for so large a requirement. The ele- 
ments of the sciences must be mastered ; the 
foundations of philosophy must be learned ; 
the principles of art must be acquired ; the 
broad facts of history must be stamped upon 
the memory ; poetry and fiction must not be 
slighted or neglected. 

Our Great Writers 

You must cultivate frequent and intimate 
intercourse with the genius of all ages and 
of all countries, not merely as standards by 
which to measure your own progress, or as 
fountains from which you may draw unlim- 
ited ideas for your own use, but because they 
are peculiarly suggestive. This is the char- 
acteristic of genius, that, conveying one 
thought to the reader's mind, it kindles in 
him many other thoughts. The value of this 
to speaker and writer will be obvious to you. 

Never, therefore, permit a day to pass 
without reading more or less — if it be but a 
single page — from some one of our great 
writers. Besides the service I have described 
in the multiplication of your ideas, it will 
render you the scarcely lesser service of pre- 
serving purity of style and language, and pre- 



22 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



venting you from falling into the conventional 
affectations and slang of social dialogue. 

For the same reason, without reference to 
any higher motive, but simply to fill our 
mind with the purest English, read daily 
some portion of the Bible; for which exer- 
cise there is another reason also, that its 
phraseology is more familiar to all kinds of 
audiences than any other, is more readily un- 
derstood, and, therefore, is more sufficient in 
securing their attention. 

Three Kinds of Reading. 

Your reading will thus consist of three 
kinds: reading for knowledge, by which I 
mean the storing of your memory with facts ; 
reading for thoughts, by which I mean the 
ideas and reflections that set your own mind 
linking ; and reading the words, by which I 
nean the best language in which the best 
authors have clothed their thoughts. And 
these three classes of reading should be pur- 
sued together daily, more or less as you can, 
for they are needful each to the others, and 
neither can be neglected without injury to 
the rest. 

So also you must make it a business to 
think. You will probably say that you are 
always thinking when you are not doing 
anything, and often when you are busiest. 
True, the mind is active, but wandering, 
vaguely from topic to topic. You are not in 
reality thinking out anything; indeed, you can- 
not be sure that your thoughts have a shape 
until you try to express them in words. 
Nevertheless you must think before you can 
write or speak, and you should cultivate a 
habit of thinking at all appropriate seasons. 

But do not misunderstard this suggestion. 
I do not design advising you to set yourself 
a-thinking, as you would take up a book to 
read at the intervals of business, or as a part 
of a course of self-training ; for such attempts 
would probably begin with wandering fancies 



and end in a comfortable nap. It is a fact 
worth noting, that few persons can think 
continuously while the body is at perfect rest 
The time for thinking is when you are kept 
awake by some slight and almost mechanical 
muscular exercise, and the mind is not busily 
attracted by external subjects of attention. 

Thus walking, angling, gardening, and 
other rural pursuits are pre-eminently the 
seasons for thought, and you should culti- 
vate a habit of thinking during those exer- 
cises, so needful for health of body and for 
fruitfulness of mind. Then it is that you 
should submit whatever subject you desire 
to treat to careful review, turning it on all 
sides, and inside out, marshalling the facts 
connected with it, trying what may be said 
for or against every view of it, recalling what 
you may have read about it, and finally 
thinking what you could say upon it that 
had not been said before, or how you could 
put old views of it into new shapes. 

Learning to Think. 

Perhaps the best way to accomplish chis 
will be to imagine yourself writing upon it, 
or making a speech upon it, and to think 
what in such case you would say ; I do not 
mean in what words you would express 
yourself, but what you would discourse 
about ; what ideas you would put forth ; to 
what thoughts you would give utterance. 

At the beginning of this exercise you will 
find your reflections extremely vague and 
disconnected; you will range from theme 
to theme, and mere flights of fancy will be 
substituted for steady, continuous thought 
But persevere day by day, and that which 
was in the beginning an effort will soo»' grow 
into a habit, and you will pass few moments 
of your working life in which, when not oc- 
cupied from without, your mind will not be 
usefully employed within itself. 

Having attained this habit of thinking, let 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



25 



it be a rule with you, before you write 
or speak on any subject, to employ your 
thoughts upon it in the manner I have de- 
scribed. Go a-fishing. Take a walk. Weed 
your garden. Sweep, dust, do any sewing 
that needs to be done. While so occupied, 
think. It will be hard if your own intelli- 
gence cannot suggest to you how the subject 
should be treated, in what order of argument, 
with what illustrations, and with what new 
aspects of it, the original product of your 
own genius. 

At all events this is certain, that without 
preliminary reflection you cannot hope to 
deal with any subject to your own satisfac- 
tion, or to the profit or pleasure of others. 
If you neglect these precautions, you can 
never be more than a wind-bag, uttering 
words that, however grandly they may roll, 
convey no thoughts. There is hope for 
ignorance ; there is none for emptiness. 



To sum up these rules and suggestions : 
To become a writer or an orator, you must 
fill your mind with knowledge by reading 
and observation, and educate it to the crea- 
tion of thoughts by cultivating a habit of 
reflection. There is no limit to the know- 
ledge that will be desirable and useful; it 
should include something of natural science 
much of history, and still more of human 
nature. The latter must be your study, for 
it is with this that the writer and speaker 
has to deal. 

Remember, that no amount of antiquarian, 
or historical, or scientific, or literary lore 
will make a writer or orator, without inti- 
mate acquaintance with the ways of the 
world about him, with the tastes, sentiments, 
passions, emotions, and modes of thought of 
the men and women of the age in which he 
lives, and whose minds it is his business tf 
instruct and sway. 



W^ 



HOW TO ACQUIRE A CAPTIVATING STYLE. 



OU must think, that you may have 
Y^ thoughts to convey ; and read, that 
you may have words wherewith to ex- 
press your thoughts correctly and gracefully. 
But something more than this is required to 
qualify you to write or speak. You must 
have a style. I will endeavor to explain 
what I mean by that. 

As every man has a manner of his own, 
differing from the manner of every other 
man, so has every mind its own fashion of 
communicating with other minds. This 
manner of expressing thought is style, and 
therefore may style be described as the fea- 
tures of the mind displayed in its communi- 
cations with other minds ; as manner is the 
external feature exhibited in personal com- 
munication. 

But though style is the gift of nature, it is 
nevertheless to be cultivated; only in a sense 




different from that commonly understood by 
the word cultivation. 

Many elaborate treatises have been written 
on style, and the subject usually occupies a 
prominent place in all books on composition 
and oratory. It is usual with teachers to 
urge emphatically the importance of culti- 
vating style, and to prescribe ingenious re- 
cipes for its production. All these proceed 
upon the assumption that styie is something 
artificial, capable of being taught, and which 
may and should be learnea by the student, 
like spelling or grammar. 

But, if the definition of style which I have 
submitted to you is right, these elaborat 
trainings are a needless labor; probably 
positive mischief. I do not design to say 
a style may not be taught to you ; but it will 
be the style of some other man, and not your 
own; and, not being your own, it will no 



24 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



more fit your mind than a second-hand suit 
of clothes, bought without measurement at a 
pawn-shop, would fit your body, and your 
appearance in it would be as ungainly. 

But you must not gather from this that 
you are not to concern yourself about style, 
that it may be left to take care of itself, and 
that you will require only to write or speak 
as untrained nature prompts. I say that you 
must cultivate style ; but I say also that the 
style to be cultivated must be your own, and 
n ot the style of another. 

How to Cultivate Style. 

The majority of those who have written 
upon the subject recommend you to study 
the styles of the great writers of the English 
language, with a view to acquiring their ac- 
complishment. So I say — study them, by 
all means ; but not for the purpose of imita- 
tion, not with a view to acquire their manner, 
but to learn their language, to see how they 
have embodied their thoughts in words, to 
discover the manifold graces with which 
they have invested the expression of their 
thoughts, so as to surround the act of com- 
municating information, or kindling emotion, 
with the various attractions and charms of art. 

Cultivate style ; but instead of laboring to 
acquire the style of your model, it should be 
your most constant endeavor to avoid it. 
The greatest danger to which you are ex- 
posed is that of falling into an imitation 
of the manner of some favorite author, 
whom you have studied for the sake of 
learning a style, which, if you did learn it, 
would be unbecoming to you, because it is 
not your own. That which in him was man- 
ner becomes in you mannerism; you but 
dress yourself in his clothes, and imagine 
;that you are like him, while you are no more 
like than is the valet to his master whose 
cast-off coat he is wearing. 

There are some authors whose manner is 



so infectious that it is extremely difficult not 
to catch it. Hawthorne is one of these ; it 
requires an effort not to fall into his formula 
of speech. But your protection against thi* 
danger must be an ever-present conviction 
that your own style will be the best for you, 
be it ever so bad or good. You must strive 
to be yourself, to think for yourself, to speak 
in your own manner; then, what you say 
and your style of saying it will be in perfect 
accord, and the pleasure to those who read 
or listen will not be disturbed by a sense of 
impropriety and unfitness. 

Nevertheless, I repeat, you should culti- 
vate your own style, not by changing it into 
some other person's style, but by striving to 
preserve its individuality, while decorating it 
with all the graces of art. Nature gives the 
style, for your style is yourself; but the dec- 
orations are slowly and laboriously acquired 
by diligent study, and, above all, by long and 
patient practice. There are but two methods 
of attaining to this accomplishment — con- 
templation of the best productions of art, and 
continuous toil in the exercise of it. 

Make Your Composition Attractive. 
I assume that, by the process I have al- 
ready described, you have acquired a toler- 
ably quick flow of ideas, a ready command 
of words, and ability to construct grammatical 
sentences ; all that now remains to you is to 
learn to use this knowledge that the result 
may be presented in the most attractive 
shape to those whom you address. I am 
unable to give you many practical hints 
towards this, because it is not a thing to be 
acquired by formal rules, in a few lessons and 
by a set course of study ; it is the product ol 
very wide and long-continued gleanings from 
a countless variety of sources ; but, above all, 
it is taught by experience. 

If you compare your compositions at inter- 
vals of six months, you will see the progress 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



25 



you have made. You began with a multi- 
tude of words, with big nouns and bigger 
adjectives, a perfect firework of epithets, a 
tendency to call everything by something 
else than its proper name, and the more you 
admired your own ingenuity the more you 
thought it must be admired by others. If 
you had a good idea, you were pretty sure 
to dilute it by expansion, supposing the 
while that you were improving by amplify- 
ing it. You indulged in small flights of 
poetry (in prose), not always in appropriate 
places, and you were tolerably sure to go off 
into rhapsody, and to mistake fine words for 
eloquence. This is the juvenile style ; and 
is not peculiar to yourself — it is the common 
fault of all young writers. 

But the cure for it may be hastened by 
judicious self-treatment. In addition to the 
study of good authors, to cultivate your^ 
taste, you may mend your style by a pro- 
cess of pruning, after the following fashion. 
Having finished your composition, or a sec- 
tion of it, lay it aside, and do not look at it 
again for a week, during which interval other 
labors will have engaged your thoughts. 
You will then be in a condition to revise it 
with an approach to critical impartiality, 
and so you will begin to learn the whole- 



some art of blotting. Go through it slowly, 
pen in hand, weighing every word, and ask- 
ing yourself, "What did I intend to say? 
How can I say it in the briefest and plainest 
English?" 

Compare with the plain answer you return 
to this question the form in which you had 
tried to express the same meaning in the 
writing before you, and at each word further 
ask yourself, " Does this word precisely con- 
vey my thought? Is it the aptest word? 
Is it a necessary word ? Would my mean- 
ing be fully expressed without it ? " If it is 
not the best, change it for a better. If it is 
superfluous, ruthlessly strike it out. 

The work will be painful at first — you will 
sacrifice with a sigh so many flourishes of 
fancy, so many figures of speech, of whose 
birth you were proud. Nay, at the begin- 
ning, and for a long time afterwards, your 
courage will fail you, and many a cherished 
phrase will be spared by your relenting pen. 
But be persistent, and you will triumph at 
last. Be not content with one act of erasure. 
Read the manuscript again, and, seeing how 
much it is improved, you will be inclined to 
blot a little more. Lay it aside for a month, 
and then read again, and blot again as be- 
fore. Be severe toward yourself. 



THE CHOICE OF LANGUAGE. 




IMPLICITY is the crowning 
achievement of judgment and 
good taste. It is of very slow 
growth in the greatest minds ; by 
the multitude it is never acquired. The 
gradual progress towards it tan be curiously 
*raced in the works of the great masters of 
English composition, wheresoever the inju- 
dicious zeal of admirers has given to the 
world the juvenile writings which their own 
better taste had suffered to pass into oblivion. 
Lord Macaulay was an instance of this. 



Compare his latest with his earliest composi 
tions, as collected in the posthumous volume 
of his " Remains," and the growth of im- 
provement will be manifest. 

Yet, at first thought, nothing appears to 
be easier to remember, and to act upon, than 
the rule, " Say what you want to say in the 
fewest words that will express your meaning 
clearly; and let those words be the plainest, 
the most common (not vulgar), and the most 
intelligible to the greatest number of per- 
sons." It is certain that a beginner will adopt 



26 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



the very reverse of this. He will say what 
he has to say in the greatest number of words 
he can devise, and those words will be the 
most artificial and uncommon his memory 
can recall. As he advances, he will learn to 
drop these long phrases and big words ; he 
will gradually contract his language to the 
limit of his thoughts, and he will discover, 
after long experience, that he was never so 
feeble as when he flattered himself that he 
was most forcible. 

Faults in Writing. 

I have dwelt upon this subject with repeti- 
tions that may be deemed almost wearisome, 
because affectations and conceits are the beset- 
ting sin of modern composition, and the vice 
is growing and spreading. The literature of 
our periodicals teems with it ; the magazines 
are infected by it almost as much as the 
newspapers, which have been always famous 
for it. 

Instead of an endeavor to write plainly, 
the express purpose of the writers in the 
periodicals is to write as obscurely as possi- 
ble ; they make it a rule never to call any- 
thing by its proper name, never to say any- 
thing directly in plain English, never to 
express their true meaning. They delight 
to say something quite different in appear- 
ance from that which they purpose to say, 
requiring the reader to translate it, if he can, 
and, if he cannot, leaving him in a state of 
bewilderment, or wholly uninformed. 

Worne models you could not find than 
those presented to you by the newspapers 
and periodicals ; yet are you so beset by 
them that it is extremely difficult not to 
catch the infection. Reading day by day 
compositions teeming with bad taste, and 
especially where the style floods you with its 
conceits and affectations, you unconsciously 
fall into the same vile habit, and incessant 
vigilance is required to restore you to sound, 



vigorous, manly, and wholesome English, 
I cannot recommend to you a better plan 
for counteracting the inevitable mischief than 
the daily reading of portions of some of our 
best writers of English, specimens of which 
you will find near the close of the First Part 
of this volume. We learn more by example 
than in any other way, and a careful perusal 
of these choice specimens of writing from 
the works of the most celebrated authors 
will greatly aid you. 

You will soon learn to appreciate the powef 
and beauty of those simple sentences com. 
pared with the forcible feebleness of some, 
and the spasmodic efforts and mountebank 
contortions of others, that meet your eye 
when you turn over the pages of magazine 
or newspaper. I do not say that you will al 
once become reconciled to plain English, 
after being accustomed to the tinsel and tin 
trumpets of too many modern writers; but 
you will gradually come to like it more and 
more; you will return to it with greater zest 
year by year; and, having thoroughly learned 
to love it, you will strive to follow the exam- 
pie of the authors who have written it. 

Read Great Authors. 

And this practice of daily reading the 
writings of one of the great masters of the 
English tongue should never be abandoned. 
So long as you have occasion to write or 
speak, let it be held by you almost as a duty. 
And here I would suggest that you should 
read them aloud; for there is no doubt thai 
the words, entering at once by the eye and 
the ear, are more sharply impressed upon 
the mind than when perused silently. 

Moreover, when reading aloud you read 
more slowly ; the full meaning of each word 
must be understood, that you may give the 
right expression to it, and the ear catches the 
general structure of the sentences more per- 
fectly. Nor will this occupy much tim« 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



27 



There is no need to devote to it more than a 
few minutes every day. Two or three pages 
thus read daily will suffice to preserve the 
purity of your taste. 

Yo jr first care in composition will be, of 
.uurse, to express yourself grammatically. 
This is partly habit, partly teaching. If 
those with whom a child is brought up talk 
grammatically, he will do likewise, from mere 
imitation ; but he will learn quite as readily 
anything ungrammatical to which his ears 
may be accustomed ; and, as the most fortu- 
pate of us mingle in childhood with servants 
and other persons not always observant of 
number, gender, mood, and tense, and as even 
they who have enjoyed the best education 
lapse, in familiar talk, into occasional defiance 
of grammar, which could not be avoided 
without pedantry, you will find the study of 
grammar necessary to you under any circum- 
stances. Your ear will teach you a great deal, 
n,nd you may usually trust to it as a guide ; 



but sometimes occasions arise when you are 
puzzled to determine which is the correct 
form of expression, and in such cases there 
is safety only in reference to the rule. 

Fortunately our public schools and acade- 
mies give much attention to the study o 
grammar. The very first evidence that a 
person is well educated is the ability to speak 
correctly. If you were to say, " I paid big 
prices for them pictures," or, " Her photo- 
graphs always flatters her," or, "His fund of 
jokes and stories make him a pleasant com- 
panion," or, " He buys the paper for you and 
I " — if you were guilty of committing such 
gross errors against good grammar, or scores 
of others that might be mentioned, your 
chances for obtaining a standing in polite 
society would be very slim. Educated per- 
sons would at once rank you as an ignorant 
boor, and their treatment of you would be 
suggestive of weather below zero. Do not 
" murder the King's English." 



PUTTING WORDS INTO SENTENCES. 




"AVING pointed out the importance 
of correct grammar and the right 
choice of language, I wish now 
to furnish you with some practi- 
cal suggestions for the construction of sen- 
tences. Remember that a good thought 
often suffers from a weak and faulty expres- 
sion of it. 

Your sentences will certainly shape them- 
selves after the structure of your own mind. 
If your thoughts are vivid and definite, so 
will be your language ; if dreamy and hazy, 
so will your composition be obscure. Your 
speech, whether oral or written, can be but 
the expression of yourself; and what you are, 
that speech will be. 

Remember, then, that you cannot mate- 
rially change the substantial character of 
rour writing; but you may much improve 



your wnti 



the form of it by the observance of two or 
three general rules. 

In the first place, be sure you have something 
to say. This may appear to you a very un- 
necessary precaution ; for who, you will ask, 
having nothing to say, desires to write or 
to speak ? I do not doubt that you have 
often felt as if your brain was teeming with 
thoughts too big for words ; but when you 
came to seize them, for the purpose of put- 
ting them into words, you have found them 
evading your grasp and melting into the air. 
They were not thoughts at all, but fancies — 
shadows which you had mistaken for sub- 
stances, and whose vagueness you would 
never have detected, had you not sought to 
embody them in language. Hence you will 
need to be assured that you have thought* 
to express, before you try to express them. 



28 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



And how to do this ? By asking yourself, 
when you take up the pen, what it is you in- 
tend to say, and answering yourself as you 
best can, without caring for the form of ex- 
pression. If it is only a vague and mystical 
idea, conceived in cloudland, you will try in 
vain to put it into any form of words, how- 
ever rude. If, however, it is a definite 
thought, proceed at once to set it down in 
words and fix it upon paper. 

Vague and Hazy Ideas. 

The expression of a precise and definite 
thought is not difficult. Words will follow 
the thought; indeed, they usually accom- 
pany it, because it is almost impossible to 
think unless the thought is clothed in words. 
So closely are ideas and language linked by 
habit, that very few minds are capable of con- 
templating them apart, insomuch that it may 
be safely asserted of all intellects, save the 
highest, that if they are unable to express 
their ideas, it is because the ideas are incapa- 
ble of expression — because they are vague 
and hazy. 

For the present purpose it will suffice that 
you put upon paper the substance of what 
you desire to say, in terms as rude as you 
please, the object being simply to measure 
your thoughts. If you cannot express them, 
do not attribute your failure to the weakness 
of language, but to the dreaminess of your 
ideas, and therefore banish them without 
mercy, and direct your mind to some more 
definite object for its contemplations. If you 
succeed in putting your ideas into words, be 
they ever so rude, you will have learned the 
first, the most difficult, and the most import- 
ant lesson in the art of writing. 

The second is far easier. Having thoughts, 
and having embodied those thoughts in un- 
polished phrase, your next task will be to 
present them in the most attractive form. To 
secure the attention of those to whom you 



desire to communicate your thoughts, it is 
not enough that you utter them in any words 
that come uppermost; you must express 
them in the best words, and in the most 
graceful sentences, so that they may be read 
with pleasure, or at least without offending 
the taste. 

Your first care in the choice of words wifi 
be that they shall express precisely your 
meaning. Words are used so loosely in so- 
ciety that the same word will often be found 
to convey half a dozen different ideas to as 
many auditors. Even where there is not a 
conflict of meanings in the same word, there 
is usually a choice of words having meanings 
sufficiently alike to be used indiscriminately, 
without subjecting the user to a charge of 
positive error. But the cultivated taste is 
shown in the selection of such as express the 
most delicate shades of difference. 

Suit the Word to the Thought. 

Therefore, it is not enough to have abund- 
ance of words ; you must learn the precise 
meaning of each word, and in what it differs 
from other words supposed to be synony- 
mous ; and then you must select that which 
most exactly conveys the thought you are 
seeking to embody. There is but one way 
to fill your mind with words, and that is, to 
read the best authors, and to acquire an 
accurate knowledge of the precise meaning 
of their words — by parsing as you read. 

By the practice of parsing, I intend very 
nearly the process so called at schools, only 
limiting the exercise to the definitions of the 
principal words. As thus: take, for instance 
the sentence that immediately precedes this, 
— ask yourself what is the meaning of "prac- 
tice," of " parsing," of " process," and such 
like. Write the answer to each, that you 
may be assured that your definition is dis- 
tinct. Compare it with the definitions of the 
same word in the dictionaries, and observe 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



29 



the various senses in which it has been 
used. 

You will thus learn also the words that 
have the same, or nearly the same, meaning 
— a large vocabulary of which is necessary 
to composition, for frequent repetition of the 
same word, especially in the same sentence, 
is an inelegance, if not a positive error. 
Compare your definition with that of the 
authorities, and your use of the word with 
the uses of it cited in the dictionary, and you 
will thus measure your own progress in the 
science of words. 

An Amusing Exercise. 

This useful exercise may be made ex- 
tremely amusing as well as instructive, if 
friends, having a like desire for self-improve- 
ment, will join you in the practice of it; and 
I can assure you that an evening will be thus 
spent pleasantly as well as profitably. You 
may make a merry game of it — a game of 
speculation. Given a word ; each one of the 
company in turn writes his definition of it; 
Webster's Dictionary, or some other, is then 
referred to, and that which comes nearest 
the authentic definition wins the honor or 
the prize; it may be a sweepstakes carried 
off by him whose definition hits the mark 
the most nearly. 

But, whether in company or, alone, you 
should not omit the frequent practice of this 
exercise, for none will impart such a power 
of accurate expression and supply such an 
abundance of apt words wherein to embody 
the delicate hues and various shadings of 
thought. 

So with sentences, or the combination of 
words. Much skill is required for their con- 
struction. They must convey your meaning 
accurately, and as far as possible in the na- 
tural order of thought, and yet they must not 
be complex, involved, verbose, stiff, ungainly, 
or full of repetitions. They must be brief, 



but not curt; explicit, but noc verbose. 
Here, again, good taste must be your guide, 
rather than rules which teachers propound, 
but which the pupil never follows. 

Not only does every style require its own 
construction of a sentence, but almost every 
combination of thought will demand a differ- 
ent shape in the sentence by which it is con- 
veyed. A standard sentence, like a standard 
style, is a pedantic absurdity ; and, if you 
would avoid it, you must not try to write by 
rule, though you may refer to rules in order 
to find out your faults after you have written. 

Lastly, inasmuch as your design is, not 
only to influence, but to please, it will be ne- 
cessary for you to cultivate what may be 
termed the graces of composition. It is not 
enough that you instruct the minds of your 
readers; you must gratify their taste, and win 
their attention, giving pleasure in the very 
process of imparting information. Hence 
you must make choice of words that convey 
no coarse meanings, and excite no disagree- 
able associations. You are not to sacrifice 
expression to elegance ; but so, likewise, you 
are not to be content with a word or a sen- 
tence if it is offensive or unpleasing, merely 
because it best expresses your meaning. 

Graces of Composition. 

The precise boundary between refinement 
and rudeness cannot be defined; your own 
cultivated taste must tell you the point at 
which power or explicitness is to be pre- 
ferred to delicacy. One more caution I 
would impress upon you, that you pause 
and give careful consideration to it before 
you permit a coarse expression, on account 
of its correctness, to pass your critical review 
when you revise your manuscript, and again 
when you read the proof, if ever you rus*. 
into print 

And much might be said also about the 
music of speech. Your words and sentences 



?0 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



must be musical. They must not come 
harshly from the tongue, if uttered, or grate 
upon the ear, if heard. There is a rhythm 
in words which should be observed in all 
composition, written or oral. The percep- 
tion of it is a natural gift, but it may be 
much cultivated and improved by reading 
the works of the great masters of English, 



especially of the best poets — the most excel- 
lent of all in this wonderful melody of words 
being Longfellow and Tennyson. Perusal 
of their works will show you what you 
should strive to attain in this respect, even 
though it may not enable you fully to ac- 
complish the object of your endeavor. Ain 
at the sun and you will shoot high. 



ERRORS TO BE AVOIDED. 



(•) I HE faculty for writing varies in various 
* I persons. Some write easily, some 
laboriously; words flow from some 
pens without effort, others produce them slow- 
ly ; composition seems to come naturally to 
a few, and a few never can learn it, toil after 
it as they may. But whatever the natural 
power, of this be certain, that good writing 
cannot be accomplished without study and 
painstaking practice. Facility is far from 
being a proof of excellence. Many of the 
finest works in our language were written 
slowly and painfully; the words changed 
again and again, and the structure of the 
sentences carefully cast and recast. 

There is a fatal facility that runs " in one 
weak, washy, everlasting flood," that is more 
hopeless than any slowness or slovenliness. 
If you find your pen galloping over the 
paper, take it as a warning of a fault to be 
shunned ; stay your hand, pause, reflect, read 
what you have written ; see what are the 
thoughts you have set down, and resolutely 
try to condense them. There is no more 
wearisome process than to write the same 
thing over again ; nevertheless it is a most 
efficient teaching. Your endeavor should 
be to say the same things, but to say them 
in a different form; to condense your 
thoughts, and express them in fewer words. 

Compare this second effort with the first, 
and you will at once measure your improve- 
ment You cannot now do better than re- 



peat this lesson twice ; rewrite, still bearing 
steadily in mind your object, which is, to 
say what you desire to utter in words the 
most apt and in the briefest form consistent 
with intelligibility and grace. Having done 
this, take your last copy and strike out piti- 
lessly every superfluous word, substitute a 
vigorous or expressive word for a weak one, 
sacrifice the adjectives without remorse, and, 
when this work is done, rewrite the whole, 
as amended. 

And, if you would see what you have 
gained by this laborious but effective pro- 
cess, compare the completed essay with the 
first draft of it, and you will recognize the 
superiority of careful composition over facile 
scribbling. You will be fortunate if you 
thus acquire a mastery of condensation, and 
can succeed in putting the reins upon that 
fatal facility of words, before it has grown 
into an unconquerable habit. 

Simplicity is the charm of writing, as of 
speech ; therefore, cultivate it with care. It 
is not the natural manner of expression, or, 
at least, there grows with great rapidity in 
all of us a tendency to an ornamental style 
of talking and writing. As soon as the child 
emerges from the imperfect phraseology of 
his first letters to papa, he sets himself earn- 
estly to the task of trying to disguise what 
he has to say in some other words than such 
as plainly express his meaning and nothing 
more. To him it seems an object of ambi- 



HOW TO WRITE A COMPOSITION. 



31 



don — a feat to be proud of — to go by the 
most indirect paths, instead of the straight 
way, and it is a triumph to give the person 
he addresses the task of interpreting his 
language, to find the true meaning lying 
under the apparent meaning. 

Oome Right to the Point. 

Circumlocution is not the invention of re- 
finement and civilization, but the vice of the 
uncultivated; it prevails the most with the 
young in years and in minds that never 
attain maturity. It is a characteristic of the 
savage. You cannot too much school your- 
self to avoid this tendency, if it has not 
already seized you, as is most probable, or to 
banish it, if infected by it. 

If you have any doubt of your condition 
in this respect, your better course will be to 
consult some judicious friend, conscious of 
the evil and competent to criticism. Sub- 
mit to him some of your compositions, ask- 
ing him to tell you candidly what are their 
faults, and especially what are the circum- 
locutions in them, and how the same thought 
might have been better, because more simply 
and plainly, expressed. Having studied his 
corrections, rewrite the article, striving to 
avoid those faults. 

Submit this again to your friendly censor, 
and, if many faults are found still to linger, 
apply yourself to the labor of repetition once 
more. Repeat this process with new writ- 
ings, until you produce them in a shape that 
requires few blottings, and, having thus 
learned what to shun, you may venture on 
self-reliance. 

But, even when parted from your friendly 
critic, you should continue to be your own 
critic, revising every sentence, with resolute 
purpose to strike out all superfluous words 
and to substitute an expressive word for 
every fine word You will hesitate to blot 
many a pet phrase, of whose invention you 



felt proud at the moment of its birth ; but, 
if it is circumlocution, pass the pen through 
it ruthlessly, and by degrees you will train 
yourself to the crowning victory of art — 
simplicity. 

When you are writing on any subject, 
address yourself to it directly. Come to 
the point as speedily as possible, and do not 
walk round about it, as if you were reluctant 
to grapple with it. There is so much to be 
read nowadays that it is the duty of all who 
write to condense their thoughts and words. 
This cannot always be done in speaking, 
where slow minds must follow your faster 
lips , but it is always practicable in writing, 
where the reader may move slowly, or re- 
peat what he has not understood on the first 
passing of the eye over the words. 

Arranging Your Words. 

In constructing your sentences, marshal 
your words in the order of thought — that is 
the natural, and therefore the most intelligible 
shape for language to assume. In conver- 
sation we do this instinctively, but in writing 
the rule is almost always set at defiance. 
The man who would tell you a story in a 
plain, straightforward way would not write it 
without falling into utter confusion and 
placing almost every word precisely where 
it ought not to be. In learning to write, let 
this be your next care. 

Probably it will demand much toil at first 
in rewriting for the sake of redistributing 
your words ; acquired habit of long standing 
will unconsciously mould your sentences to 
the accustomed shape; but persevere and 
you will certainly succeed at last, and your 
words will express your thoughts precisely 
as you think them, and as you desire that 
they should be impressed upon the minds of 
those to whom they are addressed. 

So with the sentences. Let each be com- 
plete in itself, embodying one proposition. 






*2 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



Shun that tangled skein in which some 
writers involve themselves, to the perplexity 
of their readers and their own manifest be- 
wilderment When you find a sentence fall- 
ing into such a maze, halt and retrace your 
steps. Cancel what you have done, and re- 
flect what you design to say. Set clearly 
before your mind the ideas that you had be- 
gun to mingle; disentangle them, range them 
in orderly array, and express them in distinct 
sentences, where each will stand separate, 
but in its right relationship to all the rest. 



This exercise will improve, not only youi 
skill in the art of writing, but also in the art 
of thinking, for those involved sentences are 
almost always the result of confused thoughts ; 
the resolve to write clearly will compel you 
to think clearly, and you will be surprised 
to discover how often thoughts, which had 
appeared to you definite in contemplation, 
are found, when you come to set them] 
upon paper, to be most incomplete an<* 
shadowy. Knowing the fault, you can then 
put your wits to work and furnish the remedy, 



Exercises in Composition. 



SIMPLE SENTENCES. 



SUBJECT AND PREDICATE. 



feT'HE 



HE sentence ' John writes ' consists of 
a I two parts: — 

(i) The name.of the person of whom we are speak- 
ing, — John 
and 
(2) What we say about John, — writes. 

Similar} * tie sentence ' Fire burns ' con- 
sists of two parts: — 

(1) The name of the thing of which we are speak- 
ing.—; fire. 

(2) What we say about fire, — burns. 

Every sentence has two such parts. 

The name of the person or thing spoken 
about is called the Subject. 

What is said about the Subject is called 
the Predicate. 

Exercise 1. 

Point out the Subjects and the Predicates. 

William sings. Birds fly. Sheep bleat. Henry 
is reading. Rain is falling. Rain has fallen. Stars 
are shining. Stars were shining. Cattle are grazing. 
Soldiers are watching. Soldiers watched. Soldiers 
were watched. School is closed. Donkeys bray. Don- 
keys were braying. I am writing. We are reading. 

Examples. — William sings: "William" is the 
lubject; "sings" i? the predicate. Henry is read- 



ing: "Henry" is the subject; "is reading" is the 
predicate. In like manner you should go through 
the list and point out the subjects and verbs. 

Exercise 2. 

Place Predicates ( Verbs) after the following 
Subjects: — 

Baby. Babies. Lightning. Flowers. Soldiers. 
Lions. Bees. Gas. The sun. The wind. The 
eagle. Eagles. The ship. Ships. The master. 
The scholars. The cat. Cats. Bakers. A butcher. 
The moon. The stars. Carpenters. The carpen- 
ter. The mower. Porters. Ploughmen. 

Examples. — "Baby" smiles. "Babies" cry. 
"Lightning" strikes. Supply verbs for all the 
subjects. 

Exercise 3. 

Place Subjects before the following Prea% 
cates: — 

Mew. Chatter. Grunt. Ran. Hum. Fly. Howl. 
Is walking. Plays. Played. Fell. Whistled. 
Shrieked. Sings. Sing. Sang. Sleeps. Slept, 
Bark. Barks. Cried. Bloom. Laughed. Soar. 
Swim. Swam. Was swimming. Dawns. Dawned* 
Gallops. Roar. 

Examples. — Cats " mew." Monkeys " chatter.' 
Pigs " grunt." Go on and write subjects for all th<> 
verbs. 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



33 



BlTBJECT, PREDICATE, AND OBJECT. 
The Predicate always is, or contains, a 
Verb. In many sentences the Predicate is 
a Verb alone. When it is a Verb in the 
Active Voice, it has an Object, thus : — 



Subject. 


Predicate. 


Object. 


Parents 


love 


children. 


Children 


obey 


parents. 


Boys 


write 


essays. 


Haste 


makes 


waste. 



Exercise 4. 

Pick <mt the Subjects, Predicates, and Objects. 

Soldiers fight battles. Tom missed Fred. Mary 
1s minding baby. Job showed patience. Abraham 
had faith. Romulus founded Rome. Titus captured 
Jerusalem. Arthur loves father. Walter threw a 
stone. Tom broke a window. The servant swept 
the room. Masons build houses. The girl is milk- 
ing the cow. The dog bit the beggar. Artists paint 
pictures. I am expecting a letter. We have won 
prizes. 

Examples. — The word " soldiers " is the subject ; 
"fight" is the predicate; "battles" is the object. 
"Tom" is the subject; "missed" is the predicate; 
"Fred" is the object. You do not need to be con- 
fined to the sentences here given; write others of 
your own, and name the subjects, verbs and objects. 

Exercise 5. 

You will readily understand what is required to 
complete the sentences in Exercises 5, 6 and 7. A 
poet writes poems. The smith strikes the iron, etc. 

Supply Predicates. 
A poet . . . poems. The smith . . . the iron. 

Horses . . . carts. Cows . . . grass. Cats . . . 

milk. The sexton . . . the bell. The horse . . . 

the groom. Grocers . . . sugar. The hounds . . . 

the fox. Birds . . . nests. The gardener . . . 

the flowers. Miss Wilson ... a ballad. Horses 
. . . hay. The dog . . . the thief. The banker 
... a purse. Tailors . . . coats. Brewers . . . 

beer. The girl ... a rose. 

Exercise 6. 

Supply Objects. 

The servant broke . . . The cook made . . . 
The hunter killed . . . Farmers till . . . Sol- 
diers fight . . . Tom missed . . . Mary is 
minding . . . Romulus founded , , . Titu» 



captured . . . Caesar invaded . . . The gar- 
dener sowed . . . Somebody stole . . . Artists 
paint . . . The sailor lost . . . Children learn 
. . . Authors write . . . Farmers grow . . . 
Birds build ... I admire . . . We like . . . 
I hurt . . . 

Exercise 7. 

Supply Subjects. 

. . . dusted the room. ... is drawing a load. 

. . . loves me. . . . met Tom. . . . caught 
the thief. . . . grow flowers. ... bit the beg- 
gar. . . . won the prize. . . . has lost the dog. 

. . . has killed the cat. . . . felled a tree. . . . 
are singing songs. ... is making a pudding, 

... is expecting a letter. . . . gives light. 

. . . makes shoes. . . . sold a book. . . . 
like him. . . . likes him. 

Enlarged Subject. 
Subjects may be enlarged by Adjuncts. 
Thus the sentence " Boys work " may, by 
additions to the subject, become 

The boys work. 
These boys work. 
Good boys work. 
My boys work. 

The good boys of the village work. 
The good boys of the village, wishing to please 
their master, work. 

Exercise 8. 

Point out the Subject and its Adjuncts. 

Tom's brother has arrived. The careless boy will 
be punished. The laws of the land have been 
broken. The sweet flowers are blooming. The 
poor slave is crying. The boat, struck by a great 
wave, sank. The little child, tired of play, is sleep- 
ing, A short letter telling the good news has been 
sent. 

Exercise 9. 

Add Adjuncts to each Subject. 

Birds fly. Sheep bleat. Stars are shining. Cat- 
tle are grazing. Soldiers are watching. Donkeys 
bray. Lightning is flashing. The sun is shining. 
The scholars are studying.- The ploughman is 
whistling. Monkeys chatter. Pigs grunt. The lark 
is soaring. Lions roar. 

Enlarged Objects. 
Objects, like Subjects, may be enlarged by 
Adjuncts. Thug the sentence "Boy*} learn 



34 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



lessons" may, by additions to the Object, 
become 

Boys learn the lessons. 
Boys learn their lessons. 
Boys learn home lessons. 
Boys learn difficult lessons. 
Boys learn lessons about Verbs. 
Boys learn the lessons set by Mr. Edwards. 
Boys learn the difficult home lessons about Verbs 
tet by Mr. Edwards. 

Exercise 10. 

Point out the Object and its Adjuncts. 

The servant dusted every room. Fred loves his 
sweet little sister. We have rented a house at Bar- 
mouth. We saw our neighbor's new Shetland pony. 
I am reading a book written by my father. The 
policeman caught the man accused of theft. The 
gardener is hoeing the potatoes planted by him in 
the early spring. 

Exercise 11. 

Add Adjuncts to each Object. 

The soldiers fought battles. Mary is minaing 
baby. Walter threw a stone. Tom broke a window. 
The servant swept the room. The girl is milking the 
cow. The dog bit the beggar. The artist painted 
pictures. I am expecting a letter. We have won 
prizes. The fire destroyed houses. The general 
gained a victory. The engineer made a railway. 
The children drowned the kittens. We have bought 
books. He teaches geography. 

Enlarged Predicate. 
Predicates, like Subjects and Objects, may 
be enlarged by Adjuncts. Thus the sentence 
" Boys work " may, by additions to the Pre- 
dicate, become 

Boys work diligently. 
Boys work now. 
Boys work in school. 
Boys work to please their teacher. 
Boys work diligently now in school to please their 
teacher. 

Exercise 12. 

Pick out Predicate and its Adjuncts. 

Tom's brother will come to-morrow. The careless 
girl was looking off her book. The laws of the land 
were often broken by the rude mountaineers. Pretty 
flowers grow in my garden all through the spring. 
The poor slave was crying bitterly over the loss of 



his child. The corn is waving in the sun. The great 
bell was tolling slowly for the death of the President- 
The trees are bowing before the strong wind. I am 
going to Montreal with my father next week. 

Exercise 13. 

Add Adjuncts to each Predicate in Exercises 
8, 9, 10 and 1 1. 

Verbs of Incomplete Predication. 
Some Verbs do not convey a complete 
idea, and therefore cannot be Predicates by 
themselves. Such Verbs are called Verbs 
of Incomplete Predication, and the words 
added to complete the Predicate are called 
the Complement. 

Examples of Verbs of Incomplete Predication. 

The words, " London is," do not contain a com- 
plete idea. Add the words, "a great city,'' and you 
have a complete sentence. " William was," needs a 
complement, and you can finish the sentence by 
writing, "Duke of Normandy.'' 

Exercise 14. 

Point out the Verbs of Incomplete Predica- 
tion and the Complements. 

Thou art the man. I am he. It i3 good. He is 
here. The house is to be sold. The horse is in the 
stable. The gun was behind the door. Jackson is 
a very good gardener. Those buds will be pretty 
flowers. Old King Cole was a merry old soul. I'm 
the chief of Ulva's isle. William became King of 
England. The girl seems to be very happy. The 
general was made Emperor of Rome. 

Supply Complements. 

London is . . . Paris is . . . Jerusalem was 
. . . The boy will be . . . He has become . . . 
We are . . . lam . . . He was . . . Richard 
became . . . The prisoners are , . . The man 
was . . . Those birds are . . . Grass is . . . 
Homer was . . . The child was . . . The sun is 
. . . The stars are . . . The sheep were . . . 
Charleston is . . . Havana was . . . 

PRACTICE IN SIMPLE SENTENCES. 

A sentence when written should always 
begin with a capital letter, and nearly always 
end with a full stop. 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



35 



A sentence which is a question ends with a note of 
interrogation (?), and one which is an exclamation 
ends with a note of admiration or exclamation (!). 

Exercise 15. 

Make sentences about 

Fire. The sun. The moon. The sea. Bread. 
Butter. Cheese. Wool. Cotton. Linen. Boots. 
Hats. A coat. The table. The window. The desk. 
Pens. Ink. Paper. Pencils. Lead. Iron. Tin. 
Copper. Gold. Silver. A knife. The clock- 
Books. Coal. The servant. A chair. Breakfast. 
Dinner. Supper. The apple. The pear. Oranges. 
Lemons. Water. Milk. Coffee. Tea. Cocoa. 
Maps. Pictures. 

Exercise 16. 

Make sentences introducing the following 
pairs of words : 

Fire, grate. Sun, earth. Moon, night. Bread, 
flour. Pen, steel. Wool, sheep. Cotton, America. 
Boots, leather. Ink, black. Paper, rags. Walk, 
fields. Pair, gloves. Learning, to paint. Brother, 
arm. Wheel, cart. London, Thames. Bristol, 
Avon. Dublin, Ireland. Paris, France. Colum- 
bus, America. Shakespeare, poet. Threw, window. 
Useful, metal. Carpet, new. Wall, bricklayer. 
Road, rough. Lock, cupboard. Jug, full. Hawaii, 
island. Pencils, made. Drew, map. 

Exercise 17. 

Write complete sentences in answer to the 

following questions : — 

Example. Question. What is your name ? 

Answer. My name is John Smith. 



If you said simply ''John Smith " your answer would 
not be a complete sentence. 

What is your name ? When were you born ? How 
old are you ? Where do you live ? How long have 
you lived there ? What school do you attend ? Of 
what games are you fond ? During what part of the 
year is football played ? And lawn-tennis ? Are you 
learning Latin ? And French ? And German ? Can 
you swim ? And row ? And ride ? And play the 
piano ? Do you like the sea ? Have you ever been 
on the sea? Have you read " Robinson Crusoe?" 
What is the first meal of the day ? And the second ? 
And the third? Where does the sun rise? And 
set? How many days are there in a week ? 
And in a year ? And in leap year ? How often 
does leap year come ? 

Exercise 18. 
Make three sentences about each ef the fol- 
lowing; — 

The place where you live. France. India. Aus- 
tralia. America. A horse. A cow. A dog. A 
sheep. A lion. A tiger. Spring. Summer. Au- 
tumn. Winter. The sun. The moon. Stars. HoJ 
days. Boys' games. Girls' games. A railway, i 
steam-engine. The sea. A ship. Flowers. Fruits. 
A garden. Wool. Cotton. Leather. Silk. Water. 
Milk. Rice. Wheat. Books. Tea. Coffee. Sugar. 
Cocoa. Paper. Houses. Bricks. Stone. A 
field. Guns. A watch. A farm. Knives. Bees. 
Shellfish. Fresh-water fish. Coal. Glass. Gas. 
The United States. New York. The Mississippi. 
Canada. Indians. Chicago. St. Louis. Oak- 
land. Philadelphia. Bicycle. Golf. 



Exercise 19. 

Combine each of the following facts into a sentence and write it out: 

Example : Take the first name below, thus : — " Joseph Addison, the essayist, was born at Milston In 
Wiltshire, in the year 1672." Pursue the same plan with all the other sets of facts here furnished. 



Name. 


What he was. 


Where born. 


When born 


Joseph Addison 


Essayist 


Milston, Wiltshire 


1672 


William Blake 


Poet and painter 


London 


1757 


John Bunyan 


Author of the "Pilgrim's 
Progress " 


Elstow, Bedfordshire 


162L 


Lord Byron 


Great English poet 


London 


1788 


Geoffrey Chaucer 


Great English poet 


London (probably) 


About 1344 


George Washington 


First President of the Uni- 
ted States 


Virginia 


1732 


Justin S. Morrill 


United States Senator 


Vermont 


1810 


William McKinley 


President of the United 
States 


Ohio 


1844 



36 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



What he was. 
Poet and essayist 
Author of " Robinson Cru- 
soe" 
Novelist 
Historian 

Greatest English poet 
Great English statesman 
Henry W. Longfellow American poet 
Abraham Lincoln President of the United 

States 

Date 



Name. 
Matthew Arnold 
Daniel Defoe 

Henry Fielding 
Henry Hallam 
William Shakespeare 
William H. Gladstone 



Battle. 
Senlac, near Hastings 
Bannockburn 
Cressy 
Waterloo 
Marston Moor 

Bull Run 



1066 
1314 
1346 
1815 
1644 

1861 
1898 



Where he died. 


When he died. 


Liverpool 


1888 


London 


I73 1 


Lisbon 


1754 


Penshurst 


1859 


Stratford-on-Avon 


1616 


Hawarden 


1898 


Cambridge 


1882 


Washington 


1865 


Between. 


Victor, 


English and Normans 


Normans 


English and Scotch 


Scotch 


English and French 


English 


English and French 


English 


Royalists and Parliamen- 


Parliamentarians 


tarians 




Unionists and Confeder- 


Confederates 


ates 




Americans and Spaniards 


Americans 



Manila 

These facts should be combined into sentences in various ways, thus : 

The Normans defeated the English at Senlac, near Hastings, in the year 1066. 

The English were defeated by the Normans at Senlac, near Hastings, in the year 1066. 

In the year 1066, at Senlac, near Hastings, the Normans beat the English, etc., etc. 

Event. Place. 

Printing introduced into 
England 

Discovery of America 

Qefeat of the Spanish Ar- 
mada 

Gunpowder Plot 

Conquest of England 

Surrender of British 
Destruction of Spanish 
fleet 

SENTENCES COMBINED. 

A number of simple sentences may some- 
times be combined so as to form one. 

Example: — The girl was little. She lost her doll. 
The doll was pretty. It was new. She lost it yester- 
day. She lost it in the afternoon. 

These sentences may be combined in one, thus : — 
The little girl lost her pretty new doll yesterday 
afternoon. 

The combined sentence tells us as much 
as the separate sentences, and tells it in a 
shorter, clearer, and more phasing way. 



English Channel 



Westminster 



Yorktown 
Santiago 



Date. 


Perst,,.. 


1476 


William Caxton 


1492 
1588 


Christopher Columbus 
Howard, Drake and others 


1605 
1066 

1781 
1898 


Guy Fawkes and others 
William, Duke of Nor- 
mandy 
Lord Cornwallis 
Admiral Schley 



Exercise 20. 

Combine the following sets of sentences : — 

1. The man is tall. He struck his head. He was 
entering a carriage. The carriage was low. 

2. Tom had a slate. It was new. He broke it. 
He br&ke it this morning. 

3. The cow is black. She is grazing in a meadow. 
The meadow is beside the river. 

4. The apples are ripe. They grow in an orchard. 
The orchard is Mr. Brown's. 

5. The corn is green. It is waving. The breeze 
causes it to wave. The breeze is gentle. 

6. The father is kind. He bought some dothes. 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



3'/ 



The clothes were new. He bought them for the chil- 
dren. The children were good. 

7. The r jy was careless. He made blots. The 
blots were big. They were made on his book. The 
book was clean. 

8. The bucket was old. It was made of oak. It 
fell. It fell into the well. The well was deep. 

■ 9. Polly Flinders was little. She sat. She sat 
among the cinders. She was warming her toes. Her 
toes were pretty. They were little. 

10. Tom Tucker is little. He is singing. He is 
singing for his supper. 

11. There were three wise men. They lived at 
Gotham. They went to sea. They went in a 
bowl. They had a rough trip. 

12. The man came. He was the man in the moon. 
He came down soon. He came too soon. 

13. I saw ships. There were three. They came 
sailing. They sailed by. I saw them on Christmas 
day. I saw them in the morning. 

14. Cole was a king. He was old. He was a 
merry soul. 

15. A great battle began. It was between the Eng- 
lish and the Scotch. It began next morning. It 
began at break of day. It was at Bannockburn. 

Sentences are often combined by means of 
Conjunctions or other connecting words. 

Sentences are combined, by means of the 
Conjunction and. 

Examples: — 1. The boy is good. The boy is 
clever. 

2. William is going to school. John is going to 
school. 

3. I admire my teacher. I love my teacher. 

These may be combined into single sen- 
tences, as follows : — 

1. The boy is good and clever. 

2. William and John are going to school. 

3. I admire and love my teacher. 

Note the use of the comma when more 
than two words or sets of words are joined 
by and : — 

I met Fred, Will and George. 

Faith, Hope and Charity are sometimes called the 
Christian Graces. 

I bought a pound of tea, two pounds of coffee, ten 
pounds of sugar and a peck of flour. A 

The comma is used in the same way with or. 



Exercise 21. 
Combine the following set of sentences by 
means of the Conjunction and : — 

1. Jack went up the hill. Jill went up the hill. 

2. The lion beat the unicorn. The lion drove tV e 
unicorn out of town. 

3. Edward is honest. Edward is truthful. 

4. The child is tired. The child is sleepy. 

5. Tom will pay us a visit. Ethel will pay us \ 
visit. Their parents will pay us a visit. 

6. The grocer sells tea. He sells coffee. He sella 
sugar. 

7. Maud deserves the prize. She will get it. 

8. Coal is a mineral. Iron is a mineral. Copper 
is a mineral. Lead is a mineral. 

9. The boy worked hard. He advanced rapidly. 

10. Little drops of water, little grains of sand make 
the mighty ocean. Little drops of water, little grains 
of sand make the pleasant land. 

Sentences are combined by means of the 
Conjunction or, thus: — 

1. The boy is lazy. The boy is stupid. 

2. I want a pen. I want a pencil. 

3. The horse is lost. The horse is stolen. 

These sentences may be combined as fol- 
lows : — 

1. The boy is lazy or stupid. 

2. I want a pen or a pencil. 
3- 



The horse is lost or stolen. 



Remember to put in the commas when 
more than two words or sets of words are 
joined by or, thus : — 

We could have tea, coffee or cocoa. 

The beggar asked for a piece of bread, a glass of 
milk or a few pennies. 

Exercise 22. 

Combine the following sets of sentences by 
means of the Conjunction or: — 

1. The child was tired. The child was sleepy. 

2. My father will meet me at the station. My 
mother will meet me at the station. 

3. Will you have tea ? Will you have coffee ? 

4. The colonel must be present. One of the other 
officers must be present. 

5. The cup was broken by the servant. The cup 
was broken by the dog. The cup was broken by the 
cat. 



38 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



6. 1 must find the book. I must buy another. 

7. The horse is in the stable. The horse is in the 
barnyard. The horse is in the meadow. 

8. The prize will be gained by Brown. The prize 
will be gained by Smith. The prize will be gained 
by Jones. 

Sentences may be combined by either . . . 
or, and neither . . . nor, thus : — 

James was at school this morning. His sister was 
at school this morning. 

These sentences may be combined thus : — 
Either James or his sister was at school this morn- 
ing. 

Neither James nor his sister was at school this 
morning. 

Exercise 23. 

Combine the following sets of sentences : — 
(a) By either ... or. (b) By neither . . . nor. 

1. The man can read. The man can write. 

2. He is deaf. He is stupid. 

3. That shot will strike the horse. That shot will 
strike the rider. 

4. The king was weak in mind. The king was 
weak in body. 

5. The king was loved. The queen was loved. 

6. The cow is for sale. The calf is for sale. 

Sentences may be combined by both . . . 
and, thus : — 

The man is tired. The rT trse is tired. 

These sentences may be combined in the 
following : — 

Both the man and the horse are tired. 

Exercise 24. 

Combine, by means of both . . . and, the 
sets of sentences given in Exercise 23. 

Sentences may be combined by means of 
Conjunctions of Cause, Consequence or Con- 
dition, such as if, though, although, because, 
thus : — 

1. You are tired. You may rest. 

2. The boy was not bright. He was good. 

3. He is liked. He is good tempered. 

Combine these sentences as follows : — 

1. Xyou are tired you may rest. 

2. Though the boy was not bright he w*s good. 

3. He is Kked because he is good tempered. 



Exercise 25. 
Combine the following sets of sentences >— 

(a) By means of if. 

1. You will get the prize. You deserve it. 

2. He might have succeeded. He had tried. 

3. You are truthful. You will be believed. 

4. Send for me. You want me. 

5. You do not sow. You cannot expect to reap. 

6. You are waking. Call me early. 

7. I will come with you. You wish it. 

8. We had known you were in town. We should 
have called on you. 

(b) By means ^though or although. 

9. The man was contented. He was poor. 

10. The little girl has travelled much. She is 
young. 

11. The story is true. You do not believe it. 

12. He spoke the truth. He was not believed. 

13. It was rather cold. The day was pleasant. 

14. He is often told of his faults. He does not 
mend them. 

(c) By means of because ; also by means 
of as and since. 

16. 1 came. You called me. 

17. I will stay. You wish it. 

18. The dog could not enter. The kole was too 
small. 

19. You are tired. You may rest. 

20. Freely we serve. We freely love. 

21. The hireling fieeth. He is a hireling. 

22. We love him. He first loved us. 

Sentences may be combined by means of 
Conjunctive Adverbs (such as where with its 
compounds, also when, whence, why), and of 
Conjunctions of Time (such as after, before 
while, ere, till, until, since). 

Exercise 26. 

Combine, by means of one of the words given 
in the last paragraph, the following sets of 
sentences : 

1. This is the place. My brolhe* wortw. 

2. Mary went. The lamk was sure to go. 

3. The boy was reading. His master came up. 

4. The moon rose. The sun had set. 

5. It is now three months. We heard from ovu 
cousin. 

6. Do not go out. The storm has abated 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



39 



7. The man arrived. We were speaking to him. 

8. I rem<Knber the house. I was born. 

9. I know a bank. The wild thyme blows. 

10. There is the field. The money was found. 

11. The workman did not hear. He was called. 

12. He goes out riding. He can find time. 

.Supply the omitted clauses ; 
The tree is still lying where . . . vVftterever 
. . . was my poor dog Tray. William came after 
. . . My brother cannot stay till . . . The 

merchant has been here since ... Go where 
. . . Smooth runs the water where . . . She 

stayed till . . . The boy has worked hard since 
. . . We shall be pleased to see you whenever 
. . . The train had gone before . . . The little 

girl was tired after . . . Make hay while . . . 

Sentences may be combined by means of 
Relative Pronouns, thus : 

1. That is the boy. The boy broke the window. 

2. That is the man. The man's window was 
broken. 

3. Mary is the girl. You want Mary. 

4. This is the house. Jack built the house. 

5 . The knife was lost. The knife cost fifty cents. 

Combine as follows : 

1. That is the boy who broke the window. 

2. That is the man whose window was broken. 

3. Mary is the girl whom you want. 

4. This is the house that Jack built. 

5. The knife which was lost cost fifty cents. 

Exercise 27. 

Combine, as in the examples just given, the 
following pairs of sentences ; 

1. The boy is crying. The boy is called Tom. 

2. The man was hurt. The man is better now. 

3. The grocer has sent for the police. The gro- 
cer's goods were stolen. 

4. The child is very naughty. The father pun- 
ished the child. 

5. My uncle gave me the book. The book is on 
the table. 

6. The horse goes well. I bought the horse. 

7. The lady sings beautifully. You see the lady. 

8. They did not hear the preacher. They went to 
hear the preacher. 

9. The gentleman is very kind to fce poor. You 
see the gentleman's house. 

10. I have just bought an overcoat. The overcoat 
is waterproof. 



11. The tree was a chestnut. The wind blew the 
tree down. 

12. Tom had just been given the dollar. He 
lost it. 

13. The boy drove away the birds. The birds 
were eating the corn. 

14. The girl is very clever. You met her brother 

15. The dog fetched the birds. Its master had 
shot them. 

16. Where is the book ? You borrowed it 

17. The cow has been found. It was lost. 

PUNCTUATION. 
If the proper stops are left out, the mean- 
ing of a sentence may be doubtful. Take, 
for example, the toast at a public dinner : 

Woman without her man is a brute. 

This might mean that woman without man is a 
brute. Punctuate the sentence correctly by the right 
use of the comma, and you will see that the meaning 
is quite different. Thus : Woman, without her, man 
is a brute. 

The misplacing of the stops may make 
nonsense of a sentence. Take the sentence : 

Caesar entered, on his head his helmet, on his feet 
sandals, in his hand his trusty sword, in his eye an 
angry glare. 

This may become: Caesar entered on his head, 
his helmet on his feet, sandals in his hand, his 
trusty sword in his eye, an angry glare. 

The barber's sign also had two meanings accord- 
ing to its punctuation : 

1. What do you think? 

I shave you for nothing and give you a drink. 

2. What! Do you think 

I shave you for nothing and give you a drink? 

The Full Stop. 
A Full Stop is placed at the end of every 

sentence. 

Exercise 28. 

Insert full stops where wanted. Place a 

capital letter after each. 

The old man was sitting under a tree the house 
was burned the roses were scattered by the wind the 
carpet was beaten this morning the mower was bitten 
by a snake that book is liked England was conquered 
by William the corn was ground by the miller the 
father was called by a little girl the cheeses were 
eaten by mice that fish is caught with a hook the 



40 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



flowers were gathered by Ellen that carving is much 
admired the lady was nearly stunned snow had newly 
fallen the sun had just risen the moon was almost 
setting Amelia is always reading Nelly had often 
driven the horse the week has quickly gone the bells 
were merrily ringing. 

Examples: — The old man was sitting under a 
tree. The house was burned. The roses were scat- 
tered by the wind, etc. 

Write the following, insert stops where 
wanted, and make good sense of it. 

The celebrated Rabelais was once staying at a 
lemote country inn he wished to go to Paris but had 
no money to pay his traveling expenses he therefore 
ittit upon a plan of traveling at the expense of the 
government out of brickdust he made up three little 
parcels on the first he wrote " For the king" on the 
second " For the king's son '' on the third "For the 
king's brother" the landlord seeing these on the 
table where they had been purposely left sent word 
to the king's ministers they ordered a messenger to 
fetch the traitor when he reached Paris he was recog- 
nized he proved that he was no traitor and his trick 
was discovered. 

Example: — The celebrated Rabelais was once 
staying at a remote country inn. He wished to go 
to Paris, but had no money to pay his traveling 
expenses. He, therefore, hit upon a plan of travel- 
ing, etc. 

Exercise 29. 

Correct the punctuation. 

A farmer had several sons. Who used to quarrel 
with one another. He tried to cure them of this bad 
habit. By pointing out how foolish and wicked it 
was. But he found. That he did no good. By 
talking to them. So one day he laid a bundle of 
sticks before them. And he bade them break it. 
The eldest put out all his strength. But in vain. 
The other sons tried in vain. But they all failed. 
Then the father. Untying the bundle. Gave his 
sons the separate sticks to break. And they broke 
them easily. " Remember," he said, " the lesson. 
Which this bundle teaches. While you help each 
other. None can harm you. When you quarrel. 
You are easily hurt." 

The Note of Interrogation. 

Every direct question is followed by a 
Note of Interrogation; as, "How do you 



do?' "When did you see your father K 
" I suppose, sir,*you are a doctor?" 

Sometimes a question forms part of a larger 
sentence, as, 

They put this question to the committee, " Will 
you grant us a hearing?" in a manner that proved 
their earnestness. 

Except in such cases, a note of interroga- 
tion is always followed by a capital letter. 

Carefully observe the full stops and notes of 
interrogation in the following : 

A Paris fortune-teller was arrested and brought 
before a magistrate. He said to her, " You know 
how to read the future ? " "I do, sir." " Then you 
know what sentence I mean to pass on you?" 
"Certainly." "Well, what will happen to you?" 
"Nothing." "You are sure of it?" "Yes." "Why?" 
'• Because if you had meant to punish me you would 
not be cruel enough to mock me." 

Exercise 30. 

Insert full stops and notes of interrogation. 

Is the gardener pruning the trees has the baker 
been here is the teacher liked were those roses cut 
to-day had the gentleman lost his hat was the thief 
caught is the water boiling have the girls learned their 
ooetry has the window been broken was the ship 
vvtccked has the crew been saved was Susan knitting 
will Mr. Robinson sing has Frank started 

A boy was going away without his mother's leave 
she called after him "Where are you going, sir" 
" To the village " " What for " " To buy ten cents 
worth of nails " "And what do you want ten cents 
worth of nails for " " For a nickel " 

The Comma. 

The Comma is the most frequently used 
of all stops. 

As a general rule, it may be stated that 
when, in reading, a slight pause is made, a 
comma should be inserted in writing; thus: — 

The Spaniards were no match for the Roosevelt 
fighters, however, and, as had been the case at 
La Quasina, the Western cowboys and Eastern 
" dandies " hammered the enemy from their path. 
Straight ahead they advanced, until by noon they 
were well along toward San Juan, the capture of which 
was their immediate object. Fighting like demons, 
they held their ground tenaciously, now pressing for- 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



41 



ward a few feet, then falling back, under the enemy's 
fire, to the position they held a few moments before. 
Without books God is silent, justice dormant, 
natural science at a stand, philosophy lame, letters 
dumb and all things involved in Cimmerian dark- 
ness. 

When a Noun or Pronoun in Apposition 
is very closely connected with the preceding 
word, no comma is needed, as, 

William the Conqueror. 
My cousin Fred. 
Cromwell the Protector. 

When the connection is not so close, or 
when the words in apposition are qualified, 
the phrase should have commas before and 
after, as, 

William, the Norman conqueror of England, lived 
a stormy life. 
My cousin, the bold and gallant Fred, fell in battle. 
Cromwell, the great Protector, died in 1658. 

Exercise 31. 
Insert the necessary commas. 

Napoleon the fallen emperor was sent to St. 
Helena. I live in Washington the capital of the 
United States. The children love their uncle Mr. 
Holmes. That coat was made by Brown the village 
tailor. It was the lark the herald of the morn. Tom 
the piper's son stole a pig. Frank the jockey's leg 
is broken. Rome the city of the emperors became 
the city of the popes. He still feels ambition the 
last infirmity of noble minds. Julius Caesar a great 
Roman general invaded Britain. 

Examples : — Napoleon, the fallen emperor, was 
sent to St. Helena. I live in Washington, the capital, 
etc. The children love their uncle, Mr. Holmes, etc < 

A Nominative of Address is marked off 
by commas, as, 

Are you, sir, waiting for anyone ? 

Should the Nominative of Address have 
any qualifying words joined to it, the whole 
phrase is marked off by commas, as, 

How now, my man of metde, what is it you want ? 

Exercise 32. 
Insert the necessary commas. 
O Romeo wherefore art thou Romeo? In truth 
fair Montague I am too fond. O grave where is thy 



victory ? I pray you sire to let me have the honor. 
Exult ye proud patricians. Put on thy strength O 
Zion. My name dear saint is hateful to myself. I 
am sorry friend that my vessel is already chosen. 

night and darkness ye are wondrous strong. Good 
morrow sweet Hal. Now my good sweet honey lord 
ride with us to-morrow. Come my masters let us 
share. For mine own part my lord I could be well 
content to be there. 

Examples ; — O Romeo, wherefore art thou, Ro- 
meo? In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond. I 
pray you, sire, to let me have the honor, etc. 

An Adverbial phrase or clause let into a 
sentence should be marked off by commas, as, 

His story was, in several ways, improbable. 
The letter was written, strange to say, on club 
paper. 

A time there was, ere England's griefs began, 
When every rood of ground maintained its man. 
They sat, as sets the morning star, which goes 
Not down behind the darkened west. 

Exercise 33. 

Supply commas where necessary. 

You will hear in the course of the meeting a full 
account of the business. The story is however true. 
The wounded man is according to the latest news 
doing well. He arrived in spite of difficulties at his 
journey's end. He explains with perfect simplicity 
vast designs affecting all the governments of Europe. 
In France indeed such things are done. I will when 

1 see you tell you a secret. I had till you told me 
heard nothing of the matter. There where a few 
torn shrubs the place disclose the village preacher's 
modest mansion rose. You may if you call again 
see him. You cannot unless you try harder hope to 
succeed. 

Examples : — You will hear, in the course of the 
meeting, a full account, etc. The story is, however, 
true. You cannot, unless you try harder, hope to 
succeed, etc. 

Words, phrases, or clauses of the same 
kind, coming after one another, must be sep- 
arated by commas, except when joined by 
Conjunctions, as, 

Let Rufus weep, rejoice, stand still or walk . . . 
Let him eat, drink, ask questions or dispute. 
Her lower weeds were all o'er coarsely patched 
With diff 'rent colored rags, black, red, white, yellow. 



42 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



On I walked, my face flushed, my feet sore, my 
clothes dusty and my stomach as empty as my purse. 

Exercise 34. 

Supply commas where necessary. 

I met Fred Will and George. Faith hope and 
charity are the Christian graces. The grocer sold 
four pounds of cheese two pounds of bacon and 
seven pounds of sugar. Little drops of water little 
grains of sand make the mighty ocean and the pleas- 
ant land. We could have tea coffee cocoa lemonade 
or ginger beer. The beggar asked for a piece of 
bread a glass of milk or a few pence. The prize will 
be won by Smith Brown or Jones. The first second 
third and fourth boys in the class will be promoted. 

Examples : — I met Fred, Will and George. Faith, 
hope and charity are, etc. The first, second, third 
and fourth boys, etc. 

A participial phrase is generally marked 
off by commas ; as, 
The general, seeing his soldiers turn, galloped up to 

them. 
The baby lying asleep, the children were very quiet 

Exercise 35. 
Insert commas where necessary. 

James leaving the country William was made 
king. The storm having abated the ships ventured 
to sail. Henry returning victorious the people went 
forth to meet him. My friend Sir Roger being a good 
churchman has beautified the inside of his church. 
The woman being in great trouble was weeping. 
Fearing the storm we returned. 

Examples : — James leaving the country, William 
was made king. Fearing the storm, we returned, 
etc. 

Exercise 36. 

Insert commas where necessary in the follow- 
ing sentences : — 

On their bridal trip they took a palace car went 
down the Cumberland Valley stopped awhile at 
a watering place and wondered at the divorce cases 
recorded in the newspapers. 

In those distant days as in all other times and 
places where the mental atmosphere is changing and 
men are inhaling the stimulus of new ideas folly often 
mistook itself for wisdom ignorance gave itself airs 
of knowledge and selfishness turning its eyes up- 
ward called itself religion. — George Eliot. 

When I was running about this town a very poor 



fellow I was a great arguer for the advantages oi 
poverty but I was at the same time very sorry to be 
poor. — Johnson. 

Sail on Three Bells forever 
In grateful memory sail ! 
Ring on Three Bells of rescue 
Above the wave and gale I 

As thine in night and tempest 

I hear the Master's cry 
And tossing through the darkness 

The lights of God draw nigh. 

Whittier. 

The Semi-colon. 

It may be generally stated that a Semi- 
colon is used in a complex sentence when 
a comma would not be a sufficient division. 

Co-ordinate clauses or sentences, especially 
if not joined by Conjunctions, are generally 
separated by semi-colons. 

Examples of the use of semi-colons. 
The first in loftiness of mind surpassed ; 
The next in majesty; in both the last. — Dry den. 

Many a man lives a burden to the earth ; b»* * 
good book is the precious life-blood of a master-spu. ., 
embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life be- 
yond life. — Milton. 

All nature is but art unknown to thee ; 

All chance, direction, which thou canst not see ; 

All discord, harmony, not understood ; 

All partial evil universal good. — Pope. 

Exercise 37. 

Supply semi-colons where necessary. 

Of the great men by whom Milton had been dis- 
tinguished at his entrance into life some had been 
taken away from the evil to come some had carried 
into foreign climates their unconquerable hatred ot 
oppression some were pining in dungeons and some 
had poured forth their blood on scaffolds. 

Then palaces shall rise the joyful son 
Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun 
Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield 
And the same hand rhat sowed shall reap the field. 

— Pope. 

Examples : — Of the great men by whom Miltos 
had been distinguished at his entrance into life, some 
had been taken away from the evil to come; some 
had carried into foreign climates their unconquerable 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



43 



na tred of oppression ; some were pining in dungeons, 
and some had poured forth their blood on scaffolds. 

Then palaces shall rise ; the joyful son 

Shall finish what his short-lived sire begun ; 

Their vines a shadow to their race shall yield ; 

And the same hand that sowed shall reap the field. 

— Pope. 

1 he Note of Admiration or Exclamation. 

The Note of Admiration or Exclamation 

is used 

1. After Interjections ; as, 

Alas ! he is already dead. 

2. After a phrase in the nature of an address or 

exclamation ; as, 
Vital spark of heavenly flame ! 
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame ; 
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying, 
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! — Pope. 

3. As a mark of surprise ; as, 

Two and two are five ! 
Prepare the way, a god, a god appears ! 
" A god ! a god !" the vocal hills reply. 

Exercise 38. 
Insert notes of exclamation where necessary. 

Alas he is already dead. Alas poor Yorick. Tush 
never tell me that. Well-a-day it is but too true. 
Tut, tut that is all nonsense. Hey come here. O 
for a falconer's voice. Hurrah our side has won- 
Bravo that was well done. Hush the baby is asleep. 
Ah the cowards. Oh what beautiful flowers. Heigh- 
bo I am tired of waiting. 

Hush hush mee-ow mee-ow 
We smell a rat close by. 
Hurrah, hurrah a single field hath turned the chance 

of war 
Hurrah, hurrah for Ivry and Henry of Navarre 
Ho maidens of Vienna ho matrons of Lucerne, 
Weep, weep for those who never will return. 
Examples:— Alas! poor Yorick. Tut, tut! that is 
all nonsense. Bravo ! that was well done, etc. 
Ho ! maidens of Vienna, ho ! matrons of Lucerne, 
Weep, weep ! for those who never will return. 

Quotation Marks. 
A Quotation is said to be direct when,, 
the exact words are given ; it is said to be 
indirect when the substance is given, but 
siot the exact words ; thus : — 



Direct quotations. 

1. Mr. Brown said, " I am going for a walk." 

2. Mrs. Evans writes, " I hope to see you soon." 

3. He asked me, " What is your name ?" 

Indirect quotations. 

1. Mr. Brown said he was going for a walk. 

2. Mrs. Evans writes that she hopes to see us soon 

3. He asked me what my name was. 

Exereise 39. 

Turn the direct quotations into indirect. 

Johnson said, " I am a very fair judge." " I doubt 
the story," observed Mrs. Beckett. "That was not 
quite what I had in my mind," answered the widow. 
" I am very tired," added Mr. Brown. " That is 
false,'' we all shouted. " You must be a born fool," 
shouted the old man to me. " Our host is an inferior 
person,'' he remarked. " Are you better ?" inquired 
she. Some one asked, " Do you mean to stay till to- 
morrow?" "Little kitten," I say, "just an hour you 
may stay." " I'll have that mouse," said the bigger 
cat. Bun replied, " You are doubtless very big." 

Examples : — Johnson said he was a very fair judge 
Mrs. Beckett observed that she doubted the story, 
Some one asked if you mean to stay, etc. Bun re- 
plied that he was doubtless very big, etc. 

A direct quotation always begins with a 
capital letter, and is placed within inverted 
commas, thus : — 

But his little daughter whispered, 
As she shook his icy hand, 
" Isn't God upon the ocean, 

Just the same as on the land ?" 

The man said, "Where are you going ?" 

The titles of books are generally placed 
within inverted commas, thus : — 

Defoe wrote " Robinson Crusoe." 

Thackeray is the author of " Vanity Fair," " Pen- 
dennis," " Esmond," " The Newcomes," and other 
novels. 

Exercise 40. 

Place all direct quotations within Mverted 
commas. 

Oh Charley, this is too absurd ejaculated Mrs. 
Beckett. Why, Mr. Paton must be going mad ex- 
claimed Mrs. Beckett. Oh dear ! dear ! I can indeed 
gasped the widow. The butler announced Major 
and Mrs. Wellington de Boots. You will give my 



44 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



love to your mother when you write said Mary 
warmly. He smiled as though he were thinking I 
have it not to give. The elder replied I was, as 
usual, unfortunate. How naughty he is said his 
mother. Do you understand the language of flowers ? 
inquired Uncle Ralph. Why, that is lightning ex- 
claimed the knight. Juan replied Not while this arm 
is free. He thought The boy will be here soon. Tom 
broke in with You do not know whom I mean. He 
will soon be back continued Mr. Brooke. Remem- 
ber the proverb Small strokes fell great oaks. Pro- 
voking scoundrel muttered the antiquary. Out with 
those boats and let us haste away cried one. Hearts 
of oak ! our captains cried. 

Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 
But spare your country's flag she said. 

Who touches a hair of yon gray head 
Dies like a dog. March on he said. 

He woke to hear his sentries shriek 

To arms I They come ! The Greek ! The Greek ! 

Out spake the victor then, 
As he hailed them o'er the wave, 

Ye are brothers ! ye are men ! 
And we conquer but to save. 

Examples : — " Oh ! Charley, this is too absurd," 
ejaculated Mrs. Beckett. "Why, Mr. Paton must 
be going mad,'' exclaimed Mrs. Beckett. " Hearts 
of oak !" our captains cried. 

"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, 
But spare your country's flag,'' she said. 

He woke to hear his sentries shriek, 
"To arms! They come! The Greek! The Greek!" 

The student should write out all o r the 
above sentences and place the quotation 
marks where they belong. You have enough 
examples to guide you. 

Sometimes, in the course of a quotation, 
words are inserted which form no part of 
the quotation ; thus, 

" Out with those boats and let us haste away," 
Cried one, " ere yet yon sea the bark devours." 

In such cases every separate part of the 
quotation is marked off by inverted commas. 
A capital letter is placed only at the begin- 
ning of the quotation, or after a full stop. 



Exercise 41. 
Place all direct quotations within inverted 
commas. 

I cannot tell you that replied the young man ; it 
would not be fair to others. It was not answered 
the other ; your house has always seemed like home. 
But, surely, argued the widow it must be a comfort 
to feel that. In the meantime said Edgar I will 
write to you. A common rose, said Uncle Ralph, 
like common sense and common honesty, is not so 
very common. Poor faithful old doggie ! murmured 
Mrs. Currie, he thought Tacks was a burglar. Cap- 
ital house dog ! murmured the colonel ; I shall never 
forget how he made poor Heavisides run. Cloudy, 
sir, said the colonel, cloudy ; rain before morning, I 
think. I don't see the dog I began ; I suppose you 
found him all right, the other evening. Oh, uncle, 
pleaded Lilian ; don't talk like that. 

Little kitten, I say, 

Just an hour you may stay. 

Agreed, said Ching, but let us try it soon . 

Suppose we say to-morrow afternoon. 

They're there, said Chang, if I see anything 

As clear as day-light. 

May Heaven look down, the old man cries 

Upon my son and on his ship. 

Nay, Solomon replied, 

The wise and strong should seek 
The welfare of the weak. 
Oh king I she said ; henceforth 
The secret of thy worth 

And wisdom well I know. 
Examples : — " I cannot tell you that," replied the 
young man; "it would not be fair to others." "It 
was not," answered the other; "your house has 
always seemed like home." 

"Little kitten," I say, 

" Just an hour you may stay." 

" May Heaven look down," the old man cries, 

" Upon my son and on his ship." 

When double inverted commas are used 
for an ordinary quotation, a quotation within 
a quotation is marked by single inverted 
commas; thus, 

Miriam sang, "The enemy said, 'I will pursue, I 
will overtake, I will divide the spoil.' " 

Exercise 42. 
Place all direct quotations within inverted 
commas. 



EXERCISES IN COMPOSITION. 



Mr. Brocklehurst said When I asked him which he 
would rather have, a gingerbread nut to eat or a 
verse of a Psalm to learn he says Oh the verse of a 
Psalm : angels sing Psalms. He continued, On her 
return she exclaimed Oh, dear Papa, how quiet and 
plain all the girls at Lowood look. I shall ^emember 
" said how you thrust me back though I cried out 
Have mercy ! Have mercy, Aunt Reed. The father 
said Remember the proverb Keep not evil men com- 
pany lest you increase the number. But said the 
lecturer you must note the words of Shakespeare 
Spirits are not finely touched 
But to fine issues. 
The teacher asked in what play do the words All 
the world's a stage occur ? My sister writes in her 
last letter Will you please get me a copy of the song 
Tell me, my heart. In a poem on Dr. South preach- 
ing before Charles II. we read 

The doctor stopped, began to call, 
Pray wake the Earl of Lauderdale. 
Examples : — He continued, " On her return she 
exclaimed, ' Oh ! dear Papa, how quiet and plain all 
girls at Lowood look.' " " But," said the lecturer, 
" you must note the words of Shakespeare, 
' Spirits are not finely touched 
But to fine issues.' " 

A colon (:) is used to separate parts of a 
sentence that are complete in themselves 
and nearly independent, often taking the 
place of a conjunction, thus : — 

Labor is the first great law : labor is good for man. 

A period ( . ) brings the sentence to a full 
stop, thus : — 

He rode down the valley, over the hill, and finally 
coming to a farmhouse, there he stopped. 

Exercise 43. 

You now come to a very important part 
of these exercises. You are to turn to prac- 
tical account what you have learned con- 
cerning Punctuation. Write the lines that 
follow, and make good sente by dividing 
them into sentences and placing the punctu- 
ation marks where they belong. Take time 
for this and do it thoroughly. 

The following Example will aid you in 
carrying out your instructions. The sen- 



tences are first printed without punctuation. 
I then construct the sentences and give them 
punctuation marks : 

The smoke from the Spanish fleet rose above the 
headlands of Santiago Harbor are they coming out 
I shouted to Fowler aye sir there they come he cried 
instantly we took in the situation and being ready for 
battle stood to our guns did you ask if it was a hot 
chase well our captains gunners and marines can 
answer that what thunder of guns our victory was 
complete the President cabled congratulations. 

Divided into sentences and punctuated, you have 
the following: The smoke from the Spanish fleet 
rose above the headlands of Santiago Harbor. 'Are 
they coming out?" I shouted to Fowler. "Aye, sir, 
there they come," he cried. Instantly we took in 
the situation, and, being ready for battle, stood to 
our guns. Did you ask if it was a hot chase ? Well, 
our captains, gunners and marines can answer that. 
What thunder of guns ! Our victory was complete; 
the President cabled congratulations. 

Insert the necessary stops and capital letters. 

Mr. Rich had much money and little politeness he 
thought it beneath him to be civil to ordinary people 
one wet day he was driving in his carriage along a 
turnpike road when he came to the toll gate he called 
out what's to pay five cents if you please sir said the 
keeper Mr. Rich instead of handing the money rudely 
flung a quarter on the muddy ground and cried there 
take your change out of that the keeper stooped for 
the quarter and picked it up then placing twenty cents 
exactly on the same spot he coolly walked back into 
his cottage. 

The statement is beyond doubt true. They set out 
and in a few hours arrived at their father's. We live 
in an old beautiful and interesting town. Sir I be- 
lieve you. He is guilty of the vice of cowards false- 
hood. The horse tired with the long gallop could go 
no further. Yes I am coming. Nay you are wrong. 
Philosophers assert that nature is unlimited in her 
operations that she has inexhaustible treasures in 
reserve that knowledge will always be progressive 
and that all future generations will continue to mak« 
discoveries of which we have not the least idea. Is 
this the gray-haired wanderer mildly said the voice 
which we so lately overheard Hark 'tis the twanging 
horn. O what a fall was there my countrymen Oh 
why has worth so short a date Such inquiry accord- 
ing to him was out of their province. The conflict 
was terrible it was the combat of despair against 
grief and rage. 



Exercises in Easy Narratives. 



IN the preceding pages you have been 
advised to practice the writing of com- 
positions by reading the productions of 
authors, and then writing from mem- 
ory what you have read. This may not be 
easy at first. You will, however, find it less 
difficult as you proceed. You could not be- 
come an expert typewriter or pianist without 
faithful practice, yet we have expert type- 
writers and pianists. 

It is so with learning to express your 
thoughts in writing. What is hard at first 
becomes " second nature " afterward. I have 
prepared some helpful rules and examples 
to aid you. 

Wlien writing a Story which you have 
read or heard, observe the following 
directions : — 

1. Before beginning to write, think over 
the whole story, to make sure that you re- 
member all the points, and the order in which 
they come. 

Neglect of this direction may cause you to omit 
something or to put something in the wrong place. 

2. Before beginning to write each sentence, 
arrange the whole of it in your mind. 

If you neglect this direction you may find that the 
second part of a sentence goes badly with the first, 
or that you cannot finish at -ill a sentence such as 
you have begun. Here is an example : — 

I am desired to inform the Board of Aldermen that 
Mr. Alderman Gill died last night by order of Mrs. 
Gill. 

The words printed in italics could not have been 
in the mind of the writer when he began, or he would 
have placed them after desired, or (better still) he 
would have said, " I am desired by Mrs. Gill, etc.'' 

3. Make short sentences. 

Beware of using and and so too much. Avoid 
such a sentence as the following : 

Once upon a time there was a fox and he went into 
a vineyard and there he saw many bunches of beau- 

46 



tiful ripe grapes hanging on high and he tried ts 
reach them and he could not jump high enough and 
so he turned to go and said " It does not matter ; the 
grapes are sour." 

Such a sentence ought to be divided into several ; 
thus : — 

A fox once went into a vineyard. There he saw 
many bunches of beautiful ripe grapes hanging on 
high. He tried to reach them, but found that he 
could not jump high enough. As he turned to go he 
said, " It does not matter; the grapes are sour." 

The following sentence has several faults besides 
its length : — 

He [Swinton] did with a sort of eloquence that 
moved the whole House lay out all his own errors 
and the ill spirit he was in when he committed the 
things that were charged on him with so tender a 
sense that he seemed as one indifferent what they 
should do with him, and without so much as moving 
for mercy or even for a delay he did so effectually 
prevail on them that they recommended him to the 
king as a fit object of his mercy. — Burnet : History 
of his Own Time. 

It is amended somewhat by division into shorter 
sentences, thus : — 

With a sort of eloquence that moved the whole 
House, he did lay out all his own errors and the ill 
spirit that he was in when he committed the things 
that were charged on him. He spoke with so tender 
a sense that he seemed as one indifferent what they 
should do with him. Without so much as moving 
for mercy or even for a delay, he did so effectually 
prevail on them that they recommended him to the 
king as a fit object for mercy. 

4. Use no word of which you do not know 
the exact meaning. 

Neglect of this rule led some one to write : 

At the dedication of the Gettysburg Monument. 
President Lincoln gave the ovation. 

5. Do not use long words if you can find 
short ones. 

The barber who advertised himself as " a first-class 
tonsorial artist and facial operator,'' meant only that 
he could cut hair and shave well. 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



4? 



6. Arrange the different parts of each sen- 
tence so that they convey the meaning which 
you intend. 

The following sentence is badly arranged : — 

He tells stories which Mountain would be shocked 
to hear after dinner. — Thackeray : The Virginians, 

Mountain would be shocked to hear them at any- 



time. To convey the author's meaning the sentence 
should be : — 

After dinner he tells stories which Mountain would 
be shocked to hear. 

7. When you have written your story, al- 
ways read it over, and correct all the mistakes 
which you can find. 



SHORT STORIES TO BE READ CAREFULLY, ANF THEN 
WRITTEN FROM MEMORY. 



The Fox and the Goat. 

A fox that had fallen into a well tried in vain to 
get out again. By-and-by a goat came to the place 
to quench her thirst. Seeing the fox below she asked 
if the water was good. " Yes," answered the cun- 
ning creature, "it is so good that I cannot leave off 
drinking." Thereupon the goat, without a moment's 
thought, jumped in. The fox at once scrambled on 
her back and got out. Then, looking down at the 
poor fool, he said coolly, " If you had half as much 
brains as beard, you would look before you leap." 

The Vain Jackdaw. 

A vain jackdaw found some peacocks' feathers and 
stuck them amongst his own. Then he left his old 
companions and boldly went amongst the peacocks. 
They knew him at once, in spite of his disguise; so 
they stripped off his borrowed plumes, pecked him 
well, and sent him about his business. He went back 
to the daws as if nothing had happened, but they 
would not allow him to mix with them. If he was 
too good for them before, they were too good for him 
now. Thus the silly bird, by trying to appear better 
than he was, lost his old friends without making any 
new ones. 

The Ant and the Grasshopper. 

One frosty day a grasshopper, half dead with cold 
and hunger, knocked at the door of an ant, and 
begged for something to eat. " What were you doing 
in the summer?" asked the ant. " Oh, I was singing 
all the time." " Then," said the ant, " if you could 
sing all the summer you may dance all the winter." 

The Wolf and the Lamb. 
A wolf, coming to a brook to drink, saw a lamb 
standing in the stream, some distance down. He 
•nade up his mind to kill her, and at once set about 
finding an excuse. "Villain," he said, "how dare 
vou dirty the water which I am drinking ?'* The 



lamb answered meekly, "Sir, it is impossible for me 
to dirty the water which you are drinking, because 
the stream runs from you to me, not from me to you." 
" Be that as it may," replied the wolf, " you called me 
bad names a year ago." " Sir," pleaded the lamb, 
"you are mistaken; a year ago I was not born." 
"Then," said the hungry beast, "if it was not you it 
was your father, and that is as bad. It is of no use 
trying to argue me out of my supper." Thereupon 
he fell upon the poor creature and ate her up. 

What the Bear Said. 
As two friends were traveling through a wood, a 
bear rushed out upon them. One of the men with- 
out a thought to his companion, climbed up into a 
tree, and hid among the branches. The other, know- 
ing that alone he had no chance, threw himself on 
the ground, and pretended to be dead; for he had 
heard that bears will not touch a dead body. The 
creature came and sniffed him from head to foot, but, 
thinking him to be lifeless, went away without harm- 
ing him. Then the man in the tree got down, and, 
hoping to pass his cowardice off with a joke, he said, 
" I noticed that the bear had his mouth very close to 
your ear; what did he whisper to you?" "Oh." 
answered the other, " he only told me never to keep 
company with those who in time of danger leave 
their friends in the lurch." 

Bad Company. 

A farmer who had just sown his fields placed a 
net to catch the cranes that came to steal his corn. 
After some time he went to look at the net, and in if 
he found several cranes and one stork. " Oh, sir, 
please spare me," said the stork; " I am not a crane, 

I am an innocent stork, kind to my parents, and *' 

The farmer would hear no more. " All that may be 
very true," he said, " but it is no business of mine. 
I found you amongst thieves, and you must suffer 
with them." 



48 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



Mercury and the Woodmen. 

A woodman was working beside a deep river when 
his axe slipped, and fell into the water. As the axe 
was his living, he was very sorry to lose it, and sat 
on the bank to weep. Mercury, hearing his cries, 
appeared to him, and, finding what was the matter, 
dived, and brought up a golden axe. " Is this the 
one which you lost ? " asked the god. " No," said 
the woodman. Then the god dived a second time, 
and brought up a silver axe, and asked if that was 
the one. The woodman again answered " No.'' So 
Mercury dived a third time, and then he brought up 
the axe which had been lost. " That is mine," cried 
the woodman joyfully. The god gave it to him, and 
presented him with the other two as a reward for his 
truth and honesty. 

One of the woodman's neighbors, hearing what 
had happened, determined to see if he could not 
have the same good luck. He went to the bank of 
the river, began to fell a tree, purposely let his axe 
slip into the water, and then pretended to cry. Mer- 
cury appeared as before, dived, and brought up a 
golden axe. The man, in his eagerness to grasp the 
prize, forgot to act as his neighbor had done; so 
when the god asked, 'Ts that yours?" he answered 
" Yes." To punish him for his lying and dishonesty, 
the god would neither give him the golden axe nor 
find his own. 

Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Siddons. 
Dr. Johnson always spoke scornfully of actors and 
actresses, but he treated the famous actress, Mrs. 
Siddons, with great politeness. She called on him, 
and his servant could not readily find a chair for 
her. " You see, madam,'' said the doctor, " wherever 
you go no seats can be got." 

Clever Children. 
An ignorant Englishman once visited Paris. After 
his return he was talking to some of his friends about 
the wonders he had seen. " I was most surprised," 
he said, " with the cleverness of the children. Boys 
and girls of seven or eight spoke French quite as 
easily as the children in this country speak English." 

One Good Turn Deserves Another. 
A Cambridge student sent to another student to 
borrow a book. "I never lend my books out," was 
the answer, " but if the gentleman chooses to come 
to my rooms he may use them there." A few .days 
after the book owner sent to the other student to 
borrow a carpet sweeper. " I never lend my carpet 
sweeper," replied he, " but if the gentleman chooses 
to come to my rooms he may use it there." 



Learning Rewarded. 

A rich farmer sent his son to a famous university. 
The young man was rather foolish, and brought 
home more folly than learning. One night, when 
there were two fowls for supper, he said, " I can 
prove these two fowls to be three." " Let us hear," 
answered the old man. "This," said the scholar, 
pointing to the first, "is one; this," pointing to the 
second, " is two ; and two and one make three." 
" Since you have made it out so well," replied the 
father, " your mother shall have the first fowl, I will 
have the second, and you may keep the third for 
your great learning." 

Daring a Dutchman. 

A Dutch vessel and an English vessel were lying 
near each other. One of the Dutch sailors wished to 
show his activity, so he ran up the mast, and stood 
upon his head on the top of it. One of the English 
sailors (who did not like to be beaten by a Dutch- 
man) also tried to stand upon his head on the top of 
the mast. He, however, fell. The rigging broke 
his fall and he alighted on the deck unhurt. " There, 
you lubber," he cried, " do that if you dare." 

The Miserly Planter. 

A very miserly planter formerly lived in the island 
of Jamaica. He often gave his poor slaves too little 
food. They complained, and he answered that he 
could not help himself, because the provision ships 
had been taken by pirates. This lying excuse satis- 
fied them once, twice, thrice, and again, but in the 
end long fasting made them impatient. Then they 
went to their master and said to him, " Is it not 
strange that the pirates have so often taken the ships 
bringing food, but have never taken the ships bring- 
ing pickaxes and hoes ? " 

A Precious Turnip. 

Before Louis the Eleventh became king he used 
to visit a peasant whose garden produced excellent 
fruit. Aftes his accession, the peasant brought him 
as a present a very large turnip which had grown in 
his garden. The king, remembering the pleasant 
hours that he had spent under the old man's roof, 
gave him a thousand crowns. The lord of the vil- 
lage, hearing of this, thought that if one who gave a 
paltry turnip received so large a reward, one who 
gave a really valuable present would receive a still 
larger reward. He, therefore, offered a splendid 
horse. The king accepted it and, calling for the big 
turnip, said, " This cost me a thousand crowns; I 
give it to you in return for your horse." 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



49 



The Dangers of a Bed. 

A carpenter asked a sailor, " Where did your 
father die ?" The sailor answered, " My father, my 
grandfather, and my great-grandfather were all 
drowned at sea." " Then," said the carpenter, " are 
you not afraid of going to sea, lest you should be 
drowned too ? "' Instead of replying, the sailor asked, 
" Where did your father die ? " " In his bed.'' " And 
your grandfather?'' "In his bed." "And your 
great-grandfather?" " In his bed also." "Then,'» 
said the sailor, " why should I be more afraid of 
going to sea than you are of going to bed ? '' 

How to treat Enemies. 
A Scotch minister had in his parish a man who 
sometimes used to get drunk. One day the minister, 
reproving him for his bad habit, said, " You love 
whisky too much, Donald ; you know very well that 
it is your worst enemy." " But," answered the man 
slily, "have you not often told us that we ought to 
love our enemies?" "True, Donald, but I never 
told you that you ought to swallow them." 

The Secret of Success. 
During the long struggle between England and 
France, two ignorant old ladies were discussing the 
war as they went to church. One said, " Is it not 
wonderful that the English always beat the French ?" 
" Not at all," answered the other ; " don't you know 
that the English always say their prayers before 
going into battle ? " " But," replied the first, " can't 
the French say their prayers as well ?" " Tut, tut," 
said the second ; " poor jabbering bodies, who can 
understand them ? " 

The Preacher for Prisoners. 
When David Dewar was a member of the Prison 
Board the question of appointing a chaplain for the 
'ail came up. The favorite candidate of the other 
members of the Board was an unsuccessful clergy- 
man. David, when asked to vote for him, said, " I 
have no objection ; I hear that he has already 
preached a church empty, and if he will only preach 
the jail empty too, he is just the man for our money." 

The Squire and his Servant. 
A Scotch squire was one day riding out with his 
man. Opposite a hole in a steep bank the master 
stopped and said, " John, I saw a badger go- in 
".here?" "Did you?" said John; "will you hold 
my horse, sir ? " " Certainly," answered the squire, 
and away rushed John for a spade. He got one and 
dug furiously for half an hour, the squire looking on 
with an amused look. At last John exclaimed, *' I 



can't find him, sir." " I should be surprised if you 
could," said the squire, " for it is ten years since I 
saw him go in." 

Proper Payment. 
A boy went into a baker's shop and bought a five- 
cent loaf. It seemed to him rather small, so he said 
that he did not believe it to be of full weight. " Never, 
mind," answered the baker, "you will have the lesa' 
to carry." "True," replied the lad, and throwing 
four cents on the counter he left the shop. The baker 
called after him, "Hi! this is not enough money." 
" Never mind," said the boy, " you will have the less 
to count." 

The Corporal's Watch. 

A corporal in the life-guards of Frederick the Great 
was a brave but rather vain fellow. He could not 
afford a watch, but managed to buy a chain, and this 
he wore with a bullet at the end. The king, hearing 
of this, thought he would have a little fun at the sol- 
dier's expense, so he said to him, "It is six o'clock by 
my watch ; what time is it by yours?" The man 
drew the bullet from his pocket and answered, " My 
watch does not mark the hour, but it tells me every 
moment that it is my duty to face death for your 
Majesty." " Here, my friend," said Frederick, offer- 
ing him his own costly watch, "take this, that you 
may be able to tell the hour also." 

Three Toasts. 
When the Earl of Stair was ambassador in Hol- 
land he was once at a banquet with the French and 
Austrian ambassadors. The Frenchman proposed 
the health of his master, calling him, " The Sun." 
The Austrian then proposed the health of his mis- 
tress, calling her "The Moon." The Earl of Stair 
was equal to the occasion, for when his turn came he 
proposed the health of his sovereign as " Joshua, who 
made the sun and moon to stand still." 

Going to Sleep in Church. 

A Scotch clergyman had a youth in his congrega- 
tion who was underwitted, and was commonly spoken 
of as being half daft. One Sunday the clergyman 
observed that all his hearers were asleep except this 
youth. After the service the minister congratulated 
him upon being awake, when he naively replied, 
" Maybe if I hadn't been half daft I would have 
been asleep too." 

Striking Back. 

A little girl complained to her brother that a boy 
had struck her. "Why did you not strike back?" 
he asked. " O," said the innocent creature, " I did 
that before he hit me." 



60 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



Outlines to be Turned into Narratives. 



HE following is an outline of one of 
iEsop's fables: — 
i . Donkey carrying salt— passing through 
stream — falls — loses load. 

2. Next day loaded with salt— lies down in stream. 

3. Master resolves to teach lesson — third journey 
load of sponge. 

4. Donkey lies down — load heavier. 

This outline may be filled in thus :- 
A donkey laden with salt happened to fall while 
passing through a stream. The water melted the 
salt, and the donkey on getting up was delighted to 
finr 1 himself with nothing to carry. Next day he had 
to pass again, laden with salt, through the same 
stream. Remembering how the water had yesterday 
rid him of his burden, he lay down purposely, and 
was again rid of it. But clever as he was his master 
was cleverer, and resolved to teach him a lesson. 
On the third journey he therefore placed on the 
creature's back several bags filled with sponges. 
The donkey lay down as before, but on getting up 
he found that his load, instead of being much lighter, 
was much heavier. 

In the fable, as thus told, there are several 
points (printed in italics) which are not in 
the outline. Such little details help to make 
the story more real. 

The Snake's Ingratitude. 

1. Cold winter's day — snake half dead. 

2. Peasant pities it — places in bosom — takes home 
•—lays before fire. 

3. Snake revives — attacks children — peasant kills 
it. 

This outline may be filled in as follows : — 

On a cold winter's day a peasant discovered a 
snake that was half dead. He pitied the half-frozen 
creature, placed it in his bosom, and upon taking it 
home, laid it before the fire. The snake soon re- 
vived, and, true to its nature, attacked the children 
of the household, when it was promptly killed by the 
peasant. 

The Lion and the Mouse. 

1. Lion sleeping — mouse happens to wake him. 

2. Lion going to kill mouse — mouse begs for mercy 
—mercy granted. 



3. Lion caught in a net — roars — mouse hears him — 
nibbles net. 

The Frog and the Ox. 

1. Ox feeding in marshy meadow — treads among 
young frogs — kills many. 

2. One that escapes tells mother — " Such a big 
beast! " 

3. Vain mother asks, " So big ? " — " Much bigger.'' 

4. Mother puffs out — " So big ? " — " Much bigger." 

5. This several times — at last mother bursts. 

The Hare and the Tortoise. 

1. Hare jeers at tortoise for slowness. 

2. Tortoise proposes race — hare accepts. 

3. Tortoise starts — hare says, "Will take a nap 
first." 

4. When hare wakes tortoise has passed post. 

5. " Slow and steady wins the race " 

Dividing the Spoils. 

1. Lion, donkey and fox hunting — much spoil. 

2. Lion asks donkey to divide — divides into three 
equal parts. 

3. Lion angry — kills donkey-^-asks fox to divide. 

4. Fox makes very great heap for lion and very 
little one for himself. 

5. "Who taught you to divide so well ? " — "The 
dead donkey." 

The Wind and the Sun. 

1. Wind and sun dispute which is stronger. 

2. Agree to try on passing traveler — which can 
soonest make him take off cloak. 

3. Wind begins — blows furiously — traveler holds 
cloak the tighter. 

4. Sun shines — traveler too warm— throws oft 
cloak. 

5. Kindness better than force. 

The Bundle of Sticks. 

1. Quarrelsome brothers — father speaks in vain. 

2. Asks sons to break bundle of sticks — each tries 
and fails. 

3. Asks them to undo bundle and break separate 
sticks — easy. 

4. Brothers united, like bundle— quarrelsome, like 
separate sticks. 

5. " Union is strength." 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



51 



The Goose with the Golden Eggs. 

1. Man has goose — lays golden egg daily. 

2. Man greedy — thinks inside must be full of gold 
-kills goose — finds her like all other geese. 

The Frogs asking for a King. 
i. Frogs ask Jupiter for a king — he laughs at their 
folly — throws them a log. 

2. The splash frightens them — finding log still 
they venture to look at it — at last jump on it and 
despise it. 

3. Ask for another king — Jupiter annoyed — sends 
them a stork. 

4. Stork eats many — the rest ask Jupiter to take 
stork away — he says " No." " Let well alone." 

The Battle of the Birds and Beasts. 

1. Bat is a beast, but flies like a bird. 

2. Battle between birds and beasts — bat keeps 
aloof. 

3. Beasts appear to be winning — bat joins them. 

4. Birds rally and win — bat found among victors. 

5. Peace made — birds and beasts condemn bat — 
bat never since dared show face in daylight. 

The Hart and the Vine. 

1. Hart fleeing from hunters — hides among leaves 
of vine — hunters pass without seeing him. 

2. He begins to eat leaves — a hunter hears noise — 
shoots hart. 

3. Hart lies wounded — reproaches itself for com- 
mitting so great a folly. 



4. " Vine protected me ; I injured it ; deserved my 
fate." 

The Lion and the Bulls. 

1. Three bulls feeding together in a meadow. 

2. Lion wished to eat them — afraid of the three. 

3. Lion tells each that the others have been slac. 
dering. 

4. Bulls quarrel — lion kills each separately. 

Saved by the Life-boat. 

1. Vessel goes to sea — overtaken by storm. 

2. Storm increases — ship driven on the rocks. 

3. Officers and crew in distress — clinging to tL« 
rigging — making signals. 

4. Seen by the Life Guard on shore. 

5. Boat hurries to the rescue — heroic seamen. 

6. Men on board brought ashore — benumbed— 
famishing. 

7. Revived — grateful to rescuers. 

Story of a Tramp. 

1. Early home — restless youth — runs away. 

2. Goes to seek his fortune — falls in with vicioui 
companions. 

3. Roams from place to place — becomes an idle 
beggar. 

4. Young man in a police court charged with bur- 
glarly — sentenced to state prison. 

5. First mistake was leaving home — next, com 
panionship — then, theft. 

6. Value of home attachments — industry — honesty 

7. Beware of the first wrong step — not easy tc 
remedy our mistakes. 



Stories in Verse to be Turned into Prose. 



The following poem, by Charles Kingsley, 
tells a touching little story : — 

fHREE fishers went sailing away to the west, 
Away to the west as the sun went down ; 
Each thought on the woman who loved him 
the best, 
And the children stood watching them out of the 
town. 
For men must work, and women must weep, 
And there's little to earn, and many to keep, 
Though the harbor bar be moaning. 

Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower, 
And trimmed the lamps as the sun went down ; 



They looked at the squall, and they looked at the 
shower, 
And the night-rack came rolling up, ragged and 
brown ! 
But men must work, and women must weep, 
Though storms be sudden and waters deep, 
And the harbor bar be moaning. 
Three corpses lay out on the shining sands, 

In the morning gleam, as the tide went down, 
And the women are weeping and wringing then 
hands 
For those who will never come home to the town. 
For men must work, and women must weep, 
And the sooner it's over the sooner to sleep, 
And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. 



52 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



Here is the same story, told in prose : — 

One afternoon in a western port, three fishermen 
might be seen walking slowly down towards the 
beach. Heavy masses of clouds were moving rap- 
idly overhead ; the setting sun had tinged the sky 
an angry crimson, and the waves broke with a 
moaning noise over the bar at the mouth of the har- 
bor. The fishermen knew that a storm was threat- 
ening, but still they were going to sea, for their fami- 
lies were large and their earnings had of late been 
small. Yet they were sad at heart, and as they sailed 
away they thought of the dear wives left behind, and 
of the dear children watching them out of the town. 

The women were so anxious that they could not 
rest at home, so they went up to the lighthouse to 
trim the lamps and peer out into the darkness. The 
storm came on even sooner than was expected. A 
huge billow caught the fishermen's boat and sank it, 
and the tide carried their dead bodies to the shore. 

By morning the storm had passed, and the rising 
sun shone on the wet sand and on three poor women 
wringing their hands over the corpses of their hus- 
bands. 

Note that in this prose rendering there is 
no attempt to preserve the poetry. Atten- 
tion has been paid to the story only, and that 
has been told in the simplest manner. I 
here append a cluster of poems to be turned 
into prose. 

THE SANDS OF DEE. 

MARY, go and call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
And call the cattle home, 
Across the sands of Dee !" 
The western wind was wild and dark with foam, 
And all alone went she. 

The creeping tide came up along the sand, 
And o'er and o'er the sand, 
And round and round the sand, 
As far as eye could see ; 
The blinding mist came up and hid the land. 
And never home came she. 

Oh, is it weed, or fish, or floating hair, — 
A tress of golden hair, 
Of drowned maiden's hair, 
Above the nets at sea ? 
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair, 
Among the stakes of Dee ! 




They rowed her in across the rolling foam, 
The cruel, crawling foam, 
The cruel, hungry foam, 
To her grave beside the sea ; 
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home 
Across the sands of Dee. 

— Charles Kingsley. 

THE WAY TO WIN. 

f HERE'S always a river to cross. 
Always an effort to make. 
If there's anything good to win, 
Any rich prize to take. 
Yonder's the fruit we crave, 

Yonder the charming scene ; 
But deep and wide, with a troubled tide, 
Is the river that lies between. 

PRESS ON. 

RESS on I there's no such word as fail ; 
Press nobly on ! the goal is near ; 
, j Ascend the mountain ! breast the gale ! 
Look upward, onward — never fear ! 

Press on ! if once, and twice thy feet 
Slip back and stumble, harder try ; 

From him who never dreads to meet 
Danger and death, they're sure to fly. 

To coward ranks the bullet speeds ; 

While on their breasts who never quail. 
Gleams, guardian of chivalric deeds, 

Bright courage, like a coat of mail. 

Press on / if fortune play thee false 

To-day, to-morrow she'll be true ; 
Whom now she sinks, she now exalts, 

Taking old gifts and granting new. 

The wisdom of the present hour 
Makes up for follies past and gone ; 

To weakness strength succeeds, and power 
From frailty springs : — Press on I Press on \ 
— Park Benjamin. 







THE DYING WARRIOR. 

WOUNDED chieftain, lying 
By the Danube's leafy side, 
Thus faintly said, in dying, 

" Oh ! bear, thou foaming tide, 
This gift to my lady bride." 



'Twas then, in life's last quiver, 
He flung the scarf he wore 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



53 



I 




Into the foaming river, 
Which, ah, too quickly, bore 
That pledge of one no more ! 

With fond impatience burning, 
The chieftain's lady stood, 

To watch her love returning 
In triumph down the flood, 
From that day's field of blood. 

But, field, alas ! ill-fated, 
The lady saw, instead 

Of the bark whose speed she waited, 
Her hero's scarf, all red 
With the drops his heart had shed. 

One shriek — and all was over — 
Her life-pulse ceased to beat ; 

The gloomy waves now cover 
That bridal flower so sweet, 
And the scarf is her winding-sheet. 

— Thomas Moore. 

THE BOY THAT LAUGHS. 

KNOW a funny little boy, 
The happiest ever born ; 
His face is like a beam of joy. 
Although his clothes are torn. 

I saw him tumble on his nose, 

And waited for a groan ; 
But how he laughed! Do you suppose 

He struck his funny bone ? 

there's sunshine in each word he speaks ; 

His laugh is something grand ; 
Its ripples overrun his cheeks 

Like waves on snowy sand. 

He laughs the moment he awakes, 

And till the day is done, 
The school-room for a joke he takes. 

His lessons are but fun. 

No matter how the day may go, 

You cannot make him cry. 
He's worth a dozen boys I know, 

Who pout and mope and sigh. 

THE CAT'S BATH. 

S pussy sat washing her face by the gate, 
A nice little dog came to have a good 
chat ; 
And after some talk about matters of 
state, 
Said, with a low bow, " My dear Mrs. Cat, 



I really do hope you'll not think I am rude ; 

I am curious, I know, and that you may say- 
Perhaps you'll be angry ; but no, you're too good — 

Pray why do you wash in that very odd way ? 

" Now I every day rush away to the lake, 

And in the clear water I dive and I swim ; 
I dry my wet fur with a run and a shake, 

And am fresh as a rose and neat as a pin. 
But you any day in the sun may be seen, 

Just rubbing yourself with your red little tongue ; 
I admire the grace with which it is done — 

But really, now, are you sure you get yourseh 
clean?" 

The cat, who sat swelling with rage and surprise 

At this, could no longer her fury contain, 
For she had always supposed herself rather precise, 
And of her sleek neatness had been somewhat 
vain; 
So she flew at poor doggy and boxed both his ears. 
Scratched his nose and his eyes, and spit in hi. 
face, 
And sent him off yelping ; from which it appears 
Those who ask prying questions may meet with 
disgrace. 

THE BEGGAR MAN. 

ROUND the fire, one wintry night, 
The farmer's rosy children sat ; 
The fagot lent its blazing light, 

And jokes went round, and careles; 
chat ; 

When, hark ! a gentle hand they hear 

Low tapping at the bolted door ; 
And thus, to gain their willing ear, 

A feeble voice was heard implore :— 

" Cold blows the blast across the moor, 
The sleet drives hissing in the wind} 
Yon toilsome mountain lies before, 
A dreary, treeless waste behind. 

" My eyes are weak and dim with age, 
No road, no path can I descry ; 
And these poor rags ill stand the rage 
Of such a keen, inclement sky. 

" So faint I am, these tottering feet 

No more my palsied frame can bear ; 
My freezing heart forgets to beat, 
And drifting snows my tomb prepare. 

" Open your hospitable door, 

And shield me from the biting blast : 




64 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 




Cold, cold it blows across the moor, 
The weary moor that I have passed ! " 

With hasty steps the farmer ran, 
And close beside the fire they place 

The poor half-frozen beggar man, 
With shaking limbs and pale-blue face. 

The little children flocking came, 

And chafed his frozen hands in theirs ; 

And busily the good old dame 
A comfortable mess prepares. 

Their kindness cheered his drooping soul ; 

And slowly down his wrinkled cheek 
The big round tear was seen to roll, 

Which told the thanks he could not speak. 

The children then began to sigh, 
And all their merry chat was o'er ; 

And yet they felt, they knew not why, 

More glad than they had done before. — Aiken. 

THE SHOWER-BATH. 

UOTH Dermot (a lodger at Mrs. O'Flynn's), 
" How queerly my shower-bath feels ! 
It shocks like a posse of needles and pins, 
Or a shoal of electrical eels." 

Quoth Murphy, "Then mend it, and I'll tell you how: 
It's all your own fault, my good fellow : 

I used to be bothered as you are, but now 

I'm wiser — I take my umbrella." — James Smith. 

QUEEN MARY'S RETURN TO SCOTLAND. 

' FTER a youth by woes o'ercast, 
After a. thousand sorrows past, 
The lovely Mary once again 

Set foot upon her native plain; 
Knelt on the pier with modest grace, 
And turned to heaven her beauteous face. - 
'Twas then the caps in air were blended, 
A thousand thousand shouts ascended, 
Shivered the breeze around the throng, 
Gray barrier cliffs the peals prolong; 
And every tongue gave thanks to heaven, 
That Mary to their hopes was given. 

Her comely form and graceful mien 
Bespoke the lady and the queen; 
The woes of one so fair and young 
Moved every heart and every tongue. 
Driven from her home, a helpless child. 
To brave the winds and billows wild; 
An exile bred in realms afar, 
Amid commotions, broils, cad war. 



In one short year, her hopes all crossed- 
A parent, husband, kingdom, lost ! 
And all ere eighteen years had shed 
Their honors o'er her royal head. 
For such a queen, the Stuart's heir, — 
A queen so courteous, young, and fair, — 
Who would not every foe defy? 
Who would not stand — who would not die ? 

Light on her airy steed she sprung, 

Around with golden tassels hung; 

No chieftain there rode half so free, 

Or half so light and gracefully. 

How sweet to see her ringlets pale 

Wide waving in the southland gale ; 

Which through the broomwood blossoms flew, 

To fan her cheeks of rosy hue ! 

Whene'er it heaved her bosom's screen, 

What beauties in her form were seen 1 

And when her courser's mane it swung, 

A thousand silver bells were rung, 

A sight so fair, on Scottish plain, 

A Scot shall never see again ! — Hogg. 

THE EAGLE AND SERPENT. 

fN the air do I behold indeed 
An eagle and a serpent wreathed in fight, 
And now, relaxing its impetuous flight, 
Before th' aerial rock on which I stood, 
The eagle hovering wheeled to left and right, 

And hung with lingering wings over the flood, 
And startled with its yells the wide air's solitude. 

A shaft of light upon its wings descended, 

And every golden feather gleamed therein. 
Feather and scale inextricably blended : 

The serpent's mailed and many-colored skin 
Shone through the plumes, its coils were twined 
within, 

With many a swoln and knotted fold ; and high 
And far the neck receding lithe and thin, 

Sustained a crested head, which warily 
Shifted, and glanced before the eagle's steadfast eye. 

Around, around, in ceaseless circles wheeling, 

With clang of wings and scream ^he eagle sailed 
Incessantly ; sometimes on high concealing 

Its lessening orbs, sometimes as if it failed, 
Drooped through the air, and still it shrieked and 
wailed, 

And, casting back its eager head, with beak 
And talon unremittingly assailed 

The wreathed serpent, who did ever seek 
Upon his enemy's heart a mortal wound to wreak. 

— Shelley, 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



85 




ASK AND HAVE. 

H, 'tis time I should talk to your mother, 
Sweet Mary," says I ; 
" Oh, don't talk to my mother," says Maryi 
Beginning to cry : 
" For my mother says men are deceivers, 
And never, I know, will consent ; 
She says girls in a hurry who marry, 
At leisure repent.'' 

" Then, suppose I would talk to your father, 

Sweet Mary," says I ; 
" Oh, don't talk to my father,'' says Mary, 

Beginning to cry : 
" For my father, he loves me so dearly, 

He'll never consent I should go — 
If you talk to my father," says Mary, 

" He'll surely say ' No.' " 

" Then how shall I get you, my jewel ? 

Sweet Mary,'' says I ; 
" If your father and mother's so cruel, 

Most surely I'll die ! " 
" Oh, never say die, dear,'' says Mary ; 

" A way now to save you I see; 
Since my parents are both so contrary — 

You'd better ask me" — Lover. 

WHAT WAS HIS CREED? 

E left a load of anthracite 

In front of a poor widow's door 
When the deep snow, frozen and white. 
Wrapped street and square, mountain 

and moor — 

That was his deed : 

He did it well ; 

" What was his creed ? *' 

I cannot tell. 

Blessed " in his basket and his store," 

In sitting down and rising up ; 
When more he got he gave the more, 
Withholding not the crust and cup ; 
He took the lead 
In each good task ; 
" What was his creed ? " 
I did not ask. 
His charity was like the snow, 

Soft, white, and silken in its fall ; 
Not like the noisy winds that blow 
From shivering trees the leaves ; a pall 
For flower and weed, 
Dropping below ; 
44 What was his creed ? "' 
The poor may know. 




He had great faith in loaves of bread 
For hungry people, young and old ; 
And hope inspired, kind words he said. 
To those he sheltered from the cold. 
For he must feed 
As well as pray; 
" What was his creed ? " 
I cannot say. 

THE OLD REAPER. 

^-^V'J^VID the brown-haired and the black-haired 
III men, 

I I I With ruddy taces aglow, 
^ ^-^* The old man stood in the harvest field, 

With a head as white as snow. 
" Let me cut a sheaf, my boys," he said, 
" Before it is time to go." 

They put the sickle within his hand : 

He bowed to the windy wheat; 
Pleasantly fell the golden ears. 

With the corn flowers at his feet 
He lifted a handful, thoughtfully; 

It was ripe and full and sweet. 

" Many and many a sheaf," he said, 
" I have cut in the years gone past; 
And many and many a sheaf these anna 

On the harvest wains have cast. 
But, children dear, I am weary now. 
And I think this is — the last. 

" Let me rest awhile beneath the tree ; 

For I like to watch you go, 
With sickles bright, through the ripe, full wheat. 

And to feel the fresh wind blow." 
And they spread theii working coats for him 

'Mong the grasses sweet and low. 

When the sun grew high they came again. 

For a drink and their bread and meat; 
And in the shadow he sleeping lay, 

With sunshine on his feet. 
Like a child at night, outspent with play, 

He lay in slumber sweet. 

THE GALLANT SAIL-BOAT. 

fHE boat, impatient of delay, 
With spreading, white wings flew away, 
Pushed its bold venture more and more, 
Left far behind the fading shore, 
And glided on, swan-like and free, 
A thing of life, sylph of the sea. 
The speed grew swift, each eager sail 
Swelled as it caught the gentle gate, 



56 



EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



And so, with canvas all unfurled, 
Around the prow the waters curled, 
And wreaths of spray, formed one by one, 
Made rainbows in the shining sun. 

The lively breeze then stiffer grew, 
The sail-boat leaped and darted through 
Each billow as it struck her breast, 
Or, mounting upward, skimmed the crest, 
Plunged down into the hollow graves, 
Made by the fast advancing waves, 
Then rose again with graceful bound, 
Wet with the white-caps splashing round, 
And in her frolicsome advance, 
Moved like a maiden in the dance. 
Careening low upon her side, 
No bird that cuts the air could glide 
More deftly than she gaily flew, 
Light-hearted, o'er the waters blue. 

And just as gay were those on board, 
Their youthful spirits in accord. 
As well-tuned strings wake with a thrill, 
Touched by the harpist's facile skill, 
So these young hearts were in attune, 
And carolled like the birds of June. 
The pleasure-seekers, side by side, 
Rode with the wind, rode with the tide, 
While sparkling jest and blithesome song, 
And bursts of laughter loud and long, 
Spontaneous mirth and shouts of glee, 
Went floating o'er the ruffled sea. 

— Davenport. 

WOOING. 

!e^^' LITTLE bird once met another bird, 
|f\ And whistled to her, "Will you be 
§^\ mate?*' 

' ^^_ -* With fluttering wings she twittered, 
" How absurd! 
Oh, what a silly pate I " 

And off into a distant tree she flew, 

To find concealment in the shady cover; 
And passed the hours in slily peeping through 
At her rejected lover. 

The jilted bird, with drooping heart and wing, 

Poured forth his grief all day in plaintiff songs ; 
Telling in sadness to the ear of spring 
The story of his wrongs. 

But little thought he, while each nook and dell 

With the wild music of his plaint was thrilling; 
That scornful breast with sighs began to swell — 
Half-pitying and half-willing. 



my 




Next month I walked the same sequestered way, 

When close together on a twig I spied them ; 
And in a nest half-hid with leaves there lay 
Four little birds beside them. 

Coy maid, this moral in your ear I drop: 

When lover's hopes within their hearts you prison, 
Fly out of sight and hearing ; do not stop 

To look behind and listen. — Soule. 

MISS LAUGH AND MISS FRET. 

^RIES little Miss Fret, 

In a very great pet : 
" I hate this warm weather; it's horrid to tan, 
It scorches my nose, 
And blisters my toes, 
And wherever I go, I must carry a fan. " 

Chirps little Miss Laugh : 

" Why, I couldn't tell half 
The fun I am having this bright summer day. 

I sing through the hours, 

I cull pretty flowers, 
And ride like a queen on the sweet smelling hay." 

MONTEREY. 

E were not many, we who stood 
Before the iron sleet that day ; 
Yet many a gallant spirit would 
Give half his years if but he could 
Have with us been at Monterey. 

Now here, now there, the shot it hailed 

In deadly drifts of fiery spray, 
Yet not a single soldier quailed 
When wounded comrades round him wailed 

Their dying shout at Monterey. 

And on, still on, our column kept 

Through walls of flame its wavering way ; 
Where fell the dead, the living stepped, 
Still charging on the guns which swept 
The slippery streets of Monterey. 

The foe himself recoiled aghast, 

When, striking where he strongest lay. 
We swooped his flanking batteries past, 
And braving full their murderous blast, 
Stormed home the towers of Monterey. 

Our banners on those turrets wave, 

And there our evening bugles play , 
Where orange-boughs above their grave. 
Keep green the memory of the brave 
Who fought and fell at Monterey. 




EXERCISES IN EASY NARRATIVES. 



B? 




We are not many, we who pressed 

Beside the brave who fell that day ; 
But who of us has not confessed 
He'd rather share their warrior rest 
Than not have been at Monterey ? 

— Hqffyttan. 

A WOMAN'S WATCH. 

H, I am a woman's watch, am I, 
But I would that I were not ; 
For if you knew, you would not deny 
That mine is a sorry lot. 
She will let me rest for a great long while. 

Then all of a sudden seek 
To twist me up so tight that I'll 
Keep going for a week. 

She leaves me open when she will. 

Till I'm sick of dirt and things ; 
Of pins and hair I have got my fill. 

And of buttons, hooks and strings. 
There's a four-leaf clover in me, too, 

And a piece of a photograph ; 
I'm stuffed completely through and through. 

With toothpicks, cloves and chaff. 

My hands are twisted to and fro, 

I'm thumped and jarred, alack ! 
And then, if I fail to straightway go, 

I'm pounded front and back. 
With her hat-pin all my wheels she'll pry 

Till she breaks them every one, 
And then she'll say : " I don't see why 

This mean old thing won't run ! " 

LOVE LIGHTENS LABOR. 

GOOD wife rose from her bed one morn, 

And thought, with a nervous dread, 
Of the piles of clothes to be washed, and 
more 

Than a dozen mouths to be fed, 
•'There's the meals to be got for the men in the field, 

And the children to fix away 
To school, and the milk to be skimmed and churned ; 
And all to be done this day." 

It had rained in the night, and all the wood 

Was wet as it could be ; 
There were puddings and pies to bake, besides 

A loaf of cake for tea. 
Ind the day was hot, and her aching head 

Throbbed wearily as she said, 




" If maidens but knew what good wives know, 
They would not be in haste to wed ! " 

" Jennie, what do you think I told Ben Brown ? " 

Called the farmer from the well ; 
And a flush crept up to his bronzed brow, 

And his eyes half-blushingly fell : 
" It was this," he said, and coming near 

He smiled, and stooping down, 
Kissed her cheek — " 'twas this, that you were the bed! 

And the dearest wife in town ! '' 

The farmer went back to the field, and the wife, 

In a smiling, absent way, 
Sang snatches of tender little songs 

She'd not sung for many a day. 
And the pain in her head was gone, and the clothes 

Were white as the foam of the sea ; 
Her bread was light, and her butter was sweet, 

And as golden as it could be. 

"Just think," the children all called in a breath, 
" Tom Wood has run off to sea ! 

He wouldn't, I know, if he'd only had 
As happy a home as we." 

The night came down, and the good vife smiled 
To herself, as she softly said : 

" 'Tis so sweet to labor for those we love- 
It's not strange that maids will wed 1 " 

ABOU BEN ADHEM. 

BOU BEN ADHEM— may his tribe increase! 
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
And saw, within the moonlight in his room, 
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, 

An angel, writing in a book of gold. 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold. 

And to the Presence in the room he said, 

" What writest thou ? " The vision raised its head, 

And, with a look made all of sweet accord, 

Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." 

" And is mine one? " said Abou. " Nay, not so," 
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, 
But cheerily still; and said, " I pray thee, then. 
Write me as one that loves his fellow-men." 

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night 

It came again with a great wakening light, 

And showed the names whom love of God haa 

blessed ; 
And lo I Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 

*— Leigh Hunt* 




ESSAYS TO BE WRITTEN FROM OUTLINES. 



fT is considered best by most experienced 
writers to prepare a plan of the com- 
position, of whatever character it may- 
be. In this way you are able to properly 
arrange your thoughts, and are less likely 
to omit something which ought to be treated. 

There are authors who map out in their 
minds a general plan without committing it 
formally to paper. The disadvantage of this 
method is that something is liable to be 
forgotten, or inserted in the wrong place. 
Many authors compose a whole book with 
nothing more in mind than the general out- 
line: others draw out what lawyers would 
call a "brief," from which they build up their 
production step by step. 

To aid you in learning how to write com- 
positions, I have inserted here the outlines 
of essays from which the complete pro- 
ductions are to be written. Many of these 
subjects will compel you to consult books in 
order that you may obtain the information 
you require, yet this will only be a benefit to 
you, and will amply repay all the time and 
labor you expend. 

You do not need to confine yourself to the 
thoughts suggested in these outlines. Think 
for yourself; do not always go on crutches. 
Introduce new matter and express whatever 
is snggested to your mind, that will make 
your production complete and interesting. 

The following is an outline of a brief and 
simple essay on "The Cat." 

i. Where found. 

2. Why kept. 

3 Fitted to be a beast of prey : — (a) Teeth ; {b) 
Claws ; (<r) Pads. 

4. Fitted for night prowling:— (a)Fur: (b) Eyes. 

5. Fitted to be a pet. 

6. Habits. 

The outline may be filled in thus: — 
A cat is found in nearly every house. Sometimes 
ft is kept as a pet only, and sometimes it is kept only 

58 



to catch mice, but most people keep one for ooth 
purposes. The cat is fitted by nature to be a beast 
of prey ; hence its claws and teeth are sharp and long, 
and under its feet are pads, which enable it to walk 
without making a noise. The cat is also fitted for 
prowling at night. Its thick fur keeps it from feeling 
cold, and its wonderful eyes enable it to see almost 
in the dark. Cats make good pets because they are 
pretty, clean and gentle. They like to lie on some- 
thing soft and warm. When stroked they purr. 
Kittens are very playful. 

Dog. 

1 . Found nearly all over world ; friend to man. 

2. Uses : — Hunting, guarding, minding sheep, eto„ 

3. Description : Teeth for tearing, legs for running, 
coat for warmth ; differences between cat and dog. 

4. Habits. 

Kinds of Dogs. 

1. Name various kinds. 

2. Showing how structure of each kind fits it for its 
work ; as 

(«) Greyhound — shape, legs, chest for swiftness. 

(b) Bloodhound — broad head, large nose for 
■ smell. 

(c) Bulldog — size of head, strength of jaw and 
of body. 

(d) Newfoundland — thick, oily coat, webbed fee*, 
etc., etc. 

Hay. 

1. Grass allowed to grow from early spring. 

2. Ripe in June or July. 

3. Cut with a scythe or machine. 

4. Spread out to dry in sun — turned over — raked 
into "cocks" — carted. 

Grain. 

1. Different kinds : — wheat, barley, oats. 

2. Sown in spring (wheat sometimes late fa 
autumn). 

3. Ground prepared by ploughing, harrowing. 

4. Sowing (describe). 

5. Weeding. 

6. Harvesting :— cut with sickle, scythe c- mac hinfc 
— bound — carted. 

Flour. 

1. Wheat threshed to get grain andchafi from ear, 

2. Winnowed to separate chaff from grain. 

3. Ground in mill (wind, steam). 

4. Skin (bran) separated from flour. 



EASY ESSAYS TO BE WRITTEN FROM OUTLINES. 



59 



Bread. 

1. Generally made from flour. 

2. Flour mixed with water, a little salt and yeast, 
Into sponge — yeast to make it " rise.'' 

3. Made into loaves. 

4. Baked in oven. 

Butter. 

1. Made from cream. 

2. Milk placed in shallow pans — cream rites — 
skimmed. 

3. Cream begins to turn sour — churned. 

4. Describe churn. 

5. Churning divides cream into butter and butter- 
milk. 

6. Butter run off— butter washed. 

7. Beaten, often salted, moulded. 

Lion. 

1. Cat kind — teeth, claws, sheath pad. 

2. About four feet high, tawny yellow, tufted tail, 
mane of male. 

3. Lion like cat steals up to prey. 

4. Brave. 

5. Cubs playful. 

Tiger. 

1. Compare tiger and lion : — 

(a) Lion in Africa and Asia, tiger in Asia. 
(3) Tiger as strong, more fierce and cunning. 

(c) Tiger golden fur with black stripes, no 
mane, tail not tufted. 

(d) Tiger, like lion, lies in wait. 

2. Man-eating tigers. 

3. Hunted, often on elephants. 

Elephant. 

1. Largest land animal, eight to ten feet high. 

2. Very heavy body, thick skin, little hair, legs 
•hick. 

3. Head large, tusks sixty to seventy pounds each. 

4. Short neck ; why ? 

5. Trunk; why needed? — describe. 

6. Clever, obedient, faithful. 

Stories of Elephants. 
Tell a story showing cleverness of elephant. 

Owl. 

1. Night bird ; therefore eyes large, hearing sharp, 
feathers thick. 

2. Downy feathers make flight silent. 

3. Beak and claws. 

4. Food. 

5. Haunts. 



Swallow. 

1. Made for speed; feathers firm and close, wing? 
large, tail long and pointed, legs short. 

2. Lives on insects ; large, wide mouth. 

3. Bird of passage; comes in spring, leaves in 
autumn. 

4. Kind : — 

(a) Chimney martin or swallow — builds ofteil 
under eaves. 

(&) Sand martin: smallest, builds in sandj 
banks or clifts. 

Cuckoo. 

1. Named from cry. 

2. Bird of passage — 

In April 

Come he will ; . . . « 

In July 

He prepares to fly 

In August 

Go he must. 

3. Description : — size of magpie or small pigeon ; 
color : — blue gray above ; white, with slaty bars be- 
low ; wings black, with white at tips. 

4. Lays eggs in nest of other birds — often a hedge- 
sparrow. 

Tea. 

1. From China, Assam, Ceylon. 

2. Evergreen shrub, glossy leaves, white flower. 

3. Three crops a year, first and best in spring. 

4. Leaves gathered, placed in shallow baskets, 
dried first in sun, then over charcoal ; rolled between 
hands. 

5. Two kinds, green and black. 

Coffee. 

1. Arabia, Brazil, East and West Indies, Ceylon. 

2. Evergreen tree, eight to twelve feet high. 

3. Tree bears a dark red berry, size of cherry, and 
containing two hard seeds (the coffee "bean ") each 
in a skin. 

4. Berries gathered, dried, passed under rollers to 
remove skin. 

5. Roasted in a closed iron vessel over slow fire. 

6. Ground. 

Coal. 

1. How formed : — Places where forests, woods, etc., 
growing, sank — covered with water bringing soil- 
rose again — vegetable remains hardened into coal. 

2. Hence found in layers. 

3. Mining :— shaft, galleries. 

4. Dangers: — fall of roof ; flooding; explosions of 
" fire-damp ; " afterwards " choke-damp.'' 

5. Safety lamp. 



60 



EASY ESSAYS TO BE WRITTEN FROM OUTLINES. 



Iron. 

1. Iron ore found in many places, worked on coal 
fields ; why ? 

2. To drive away sulphur roasted in kiln, or with 
layers of coal on ground. 

3. Mixed with coal and lime and placed in blast 
furnace. 

4. Earthy matters unite with lime to form " slag." 
$. Melted iron falls to bottom — run off " cast iron." 

3. Carbon added to iron to make steel. 

Spring. 
I. What months ? 

1. Welcome season after short, cold days of winter. 
\. Trees and flowers — blossom. 

4. Sowing. 

5. Pleasant walks in the country. 

Christmas. 

1. When? 

2. Most general holiday. 

3. Why kept — " peace and goodwill.'' 

4. How kept: — business stopped; cards; presents; 
meetings of friends ; Christmas fare; trees. 

Your School. 

1. Name. 

2. Situation. 

3. History. 

4. Subjects taught. 

5. Games. 

6. How you may do credit to it 

Any Town, 

1. Name. 

2. Situation. 

3. Population. 

4. Chief industry. 

5. Chief buildings. 

6. History. 

Linen. 

1. Made from flax-plant about four feet high, blue 
lower. 

2. Ripe flax pulled up, dried. 

3. Seed (linseed) removed by pulling stalks through 
a kind of comb. 

4. Stalks consist of two parts, woody and fibrous. 

5. Steeped in water to make separation of two 
easier. 

6. Beaten to break woody part. 

7. Combed to remove it. 

8. Spun, bleached, woven. 

9. Uses. 



Blind Man's Buff. 

1 . One of the players has handkerchief lied ovet 
eyes. 

2. Tries to catch any of the others. 

3. If he catches any one he must say who it is. 

4. If he succeeds, player caught takes his place. 

5. The fun of the game. 

Base Ball. 

1. Describe bases (number, positions, etc.). 

2. Describe bat and ball. 

3. How many players ? 

4. Pitcher, catcher, basemen, fielders. 

5. How " runs '' are made. 

6. How a player is " out" 

7. How one side is out. 

8. Which " team " wins? 

The Blacksmith's Shop. 

1. Describe the blacksmith. 

2. His work. 

3. Fire, bellows. 

4. Anvil, hammers, tongs, water-trough. 

5. " The children coming home from school . . . .* 

The Carpenter's Shop. 

1. Work. 

2. Bench, planes, chisels, hammers, mallets, axe, 
adze, gimlets, saws, rule. 

3. Compare blacksmith and carpenter. 

Soldier. 

1. Appearance. 

2. Work. 

3. Where he lives in peace and in war. 

4. Recruits, drill, reviews, band. 

5. Battle. 

6. Qualities of a soldier. 

A Farm Laborer. 

1. Work varies with season. 

2. In spring work connected with sowing. 

3. Summer — weeding, haymaking. 

4. Autumn — harvesting ; sometimes ploughing. 

5. Winter — looking after stock. 

A Visit to Washington. 

1. On what river situated ? 

2. Founded when? When captured by the British t 

3. Streets and avenues. 

4. Capitol building, dome, Senate chamber, Cham- 
ber of the House of Representatives. 

5. White House. 

& Buildings of Government Departments. 



EASY ESSAYS TO BE WRITTEN FROM OUTLINES. 



9> 



7. Smithsonian Institute. 

8. Washington's monument 

Cleanliness. 
t. Of person. 

(a) Describe pores. Waste of body passes 
through them like smoke up a chimney ; 
therefore must be kept open. 
(&) Diseases arise if waste cannot pass off. 
(c) Dirty person disagreeable. 

2. Of clothes. 

Clean person impossible in dirty clothes. 

3. Of houses. 

(a) Dust passes into lungs. 

(b) Dirty houses — bad smells. 

{c) Plague (formerly common) due to dirt. 

Lying. 

1. What it is — willful attempt to deceive. 

2. Words may be true and yet a lie because meant 
to deceive. 

3. There may be lies without words. 

4. Why wrong. 

5. Consequence to liar — not believed even when 
speaking truth. 

6. Fable 01 boy that cried " Wolf." 

Cruelty to Animals. 

1. Animals can feel. 

2. How would you lifcc» eruel treatment ? 

3. " Do unto others . . . .' 

4. Animals grateful for kindness. 

5. Any story to show this. 

Thrift. 

1. " Penny saved, penny earned." 

2. Name some things on which children spend 
money needlessly. 

3. Advantages of saving: — "Take care of the 
pennies and the dollars will take care of them- 
selves ; " savings can be turned to account ; pro- 
vision for a *' rainy day." 

4. Aids to thrift: — Savings banks, building so- 
cieties, etc. 

Make Hay while the Sun Shines. 

1. Meaning of proverb. Hay is grass dried in the 
sun ; if not " made " on first opportunity, it may be 
spoiled by rain. 

2. Proverb teaches us to miss no opportunity. 

3. Reasons : — Do not know what may happen by 
to-morrow ; chance perhaps lost forever ; ' ' The mill 
cannot grind with the water that is past." 

4. Story to show danger of putting off. 



A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss. 

1. Meaning of the proverb — persevere. 

2. Illustrations: — 

{a) If you do not finish a study begun, all tho 

time spent on it is wasted. 
(£) Three removes are as bad as a fire. 
(c) By staying in the same place you make 

friends and a position. 

" Virtue is its Own Reward." 

1. Virtue often gains for a man honor, wealth, 
friends. 

2. But though it brought no such rewards it should 
be sought. 

3. For the approval of one's own conscience is 
more important than the approval of any one else. 

Easy Subjects for Compositions. 

Rabbit. Fox. Pig. Mouse. Bear. Camel. Monkey. 
Sheep. Goat. Cow. Hen. Duck. Robin. Lark. 
Canary. Ostrich. Eagle. Pigeon. Gull. Sparrow. 
Whale. Seal. Bee. Spider. Fly. Butterfly. Shark. 
Herring. Mackerel. Crab. Cod. Frog. Crocodile. 
Turtle. Adder. Cocoa. Sugar. Sago. Cork. India rub- 
ber. Potato. Turnip. Salt. Lead. Tin. Copper. Gold. 
Knife. Glass. Paper. Soap. Pins. Needles. Can- 
dles. Cotton. Silk. Woollen cloth. Autumn. Winter. 
Any game with marbles. Making and flying kites. 
Boating. Swimming. Fishing. Football. Skating. 
Lawn tennis. Punctuality. Industry. Perseverance. 
Obedience. Bad language. Good manners. Good 
habits. Temperance. Honesty. The " Golden Rule." 
How to make yourself useful at home. 

Describe: — (a) A house, {b) A street, (c) A 
church, (d) Any village, (e) Any town. (/) A 
farm, (g) A mill. (A) The sea-side. (/) Common 
spring flowers. (J) The most beautiful place you 
have seen, (k) A snow-storm. (/) A thunder- 
storm. 

Describe the life and work of: — (a) A mason. (J?) 
A gardener, (c) A teacher, (d) A doctor. (<f) A 
sailor. (/) A policeman, (g) A postman, [k) A 
tailor. (£) A baker. (J) A shepherd, (k) A fisher- 
man. (/) An errand-boy. (m) A painter. 

Describe a visit to ; — {a) The seaside. (Z>) Chicago 
or some other large town, (c) The Zoological Gar- 
dens or a menagerie, (d) A circus. (<f) A school 
exhibition. (/) A department store, (g) A country 
dairy. (A) A picture gallery. 

Tell a story about :— (a) A dog. (d) A cat. (c) A 
horse, (d) A monkey, {e) A parrot. (/) An 
elephant, (g) A hen. 



62 



USE OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



Tell any stories you know illustrating the following 
sayings :— 

(a) " Look before you leap." 
(fi) " Liars are not believed even when they 
speak the truth." 

(c) " People are judged by the company they 

keep.'' 

(d) " Penny wise and pound foolish." 

(/) " Count not your chickens before they are 

hatched." 
(/) " A friend in need is a friend indeed." 



[g) " Union is strength." 
Explain and illustrate the following proverbs :— • 
(a) " A stitch in time saves nine." 
(5) "A prudent man foreseeth the evil; fools 
pass on and are punished.'' 

(c ) " The more haste the less speed." 

(d) " Strike the iron while it is hot." 

(e) "Touch pitch and be defiled." 
(/) " Rome was not built in a day." 
(g) " No gains without pains." 

(k) " Nothing venture nothing win." 



Use of Illustrations. 



r c^ Tr' N apt illustration is always a help to a 
J-±\ writer or speaker. The mind of the 
y^LV^ reader or hearer is interested in 
tracing the comparison, and re- 
ceives a stronger impression than it does 
when the thought is stated simply by itself. 

Many of the most famous orators have 
been very gifted in employing similes to ex- 
press their meaning. You should cultivate 
the habit of using illustrations. Although 
there is sometimes danger in employing 
them, yet where carefully and rightly used 
they not only ornament the composition, 
but render its thoughts and ideas more 
striking, more impressive and more easily 
remembered. 

A Simile is a comparison explicitly stated ; 

as, 

Now does he feel his title 
Hang loose upon him like a giant's robe 
Upon a dwarfish thief. 

How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 

An evil soul producing holy witness 

Is like a goodly apple rotten at the heart. 

The course of a great statesman resembles that of 
navigable rivers, avoiding immovable obstacles with 
noble bends of concession, seeking the broad levels 
<»f opinion on which men soonest settle and longest 
dwell, following and marking the most imperceptible 
slopes of national tendency, yet always aiming at 
direct advances, always recruited from sources nearer 



heaven, and sometimes bursting open paths of pro- 
gress and fruitful human commerce through what 
seem the eternal barriers of both. 

A Metaphor is a condensed Simile. The 
comparison is implied, but not expressed at 
length ; thus : — 

But look, the morn in russet mantle clad 
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. 
The simile implied here is, " The morning like to 
a person clad in russet mantle walks,'' etc. 

Stand, therefore, having your loins girt about with 
truth, and having on the breastplate of righteous- 
ness . . . above all taking the shield of faith where- 
with ye may be able to quench all the fiery darts of 
the wicked. 

Similes and Metaphors arv employed 

i. To aid the understandifg. 

We comprehend the unltnown best by comparison 
with the known. 

2. To intensify thf; feelings ; as 
Offence's gilded hand /viay shove by justice. 
What a piece of wort, is man ; how noble in rea- 
son ! how infinite in faculty ! in form and moving 
how express and admirable ! in action how like an 
angel ! in apprehension how like a god ! the beauty 
of the world ! the paragon of animals I 

3. To give point and force to what we 
wish to express. 

Our conduct towards the Indians has been that of 
a man who subscribes to hospitals, weeps at charity 
sermons, carries out broth and blankets to beggars, 
and then comes krwne and beats his wife and chil- 
dren. 



USE OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



63 



Howe'er it be, it seems to me 
Tis only noble to be good. 
Kind hearts are more than coronets, 
And simple faith than Norman blood. 

— Tennyson. 
Every one must admit the beauty and force of the 
great poet's comparison of kind hearts to coronets, 
and simple faith to Norman blood, implying that 
each object mentioned surpasses the one with which 
it is compared. 

The following rules should be observed in 
the conduct of Metaphors : — 

i. Do not use metaphors, except when needed to 
make a sentence clearer or stronger. Needless meta- 
phors are a blemish instead of an ornament. 

2. Do not pursue a simile or metaphor too far. 
The further it is pursued the less likely is the com- 
parison to hold. 

3. Metaphors should avoid mean or disagreeable 
details. 

4. Metaphors should not be forced. Some meta- 
phors are so far-fetched that (as Mr. Lowell says) one 
could wish their authors no worse fate than to be 
obliged to carry them back whence they came. 

5. Do not mix literal and metaphorical language. 
In the sentence 

I was walking on the barren hills of sin and sorrow 

near Welshpool, 
" the barren hills of sin and sorrow '' is metaphori- 
cal, and "near Welshpool " is literal. 

Examples of Apt Illustrations. 

But I am constant as the northern star, 

Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality 

There is no fellow in the firmament. — Shakespeare. 
I had rather be a dog and bay the moon, 
Than such a Roman. — Shakespeare. 

There is a tide in the affairs of men 

Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune •, 

Omitted, all the voyage of their life 

Is bound in shallows and in miseries. — Shakespeare. 

Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve. — Milton. 

Now morn, her rosy steps in eastern clime 
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl. 

— Milton. 
So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop 
Into thy mother's lap. — Milton. 
Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant 
nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, 
and shaking her invincible locks. — Milton. 



There is a reaper whose name is death, 

And with his sickle keen 
He reaps the bearded grain at a breath, 

And the flowers that grow between. 

— Longfellow . 

And the night shall be filled with music, 
And the cares that infest the day 

Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, 
And as silently steal away. — Longfellow. 

But what am I ? 
An infant crying in the night : 
An infant crying for the light, 
And with no language but a cry. — Tennyson. 

But Memory blushes at the sneer, 
And Honor turns with frown defiant, 

And Freedom, leaning on her spear, 

Laughs louder than the laughing giant. — Holmes. 

There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every 

one, 
Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on. 

— Lowell. 
In winter, when the dismal rain 
Came down in slanting lines, 
And wind, that grand old harper, smote 
His thunder-harp of pines. — Mulock. 

Men not only want a competency, but they want 
a ten- story competency; then they want religion as 
a lightning rod to ward off the bolts of divine ; idg- 
ment. — Beecher. 

As the river is swollen by the melting snows of 
spring and runs with greater force and volume, so, 
when he is aroused, his thoughts and words pour 
forth impetuously, and he exhibits the strength and 
majesty of the most commanding eloquence. 

Examples of Faulty Illustrations. 

Peace has poured oil on the troubled waters, and 
they blossom like the rose. 

She has come down among us in her floating 
robes, bearing the olive-branch in her beak. 

The American eagle broods over his nest in the 
rocky fastnesses, and his young shall lie down with 
the lamb. 

We have gone through the floods, and have turned 
their hot ploughshares into pruning-hooks. 

May we be as lucky in the future, preserving for- 
ever our Goddess of Liberty one and inseparable. 

Corrections. — Peace may pour *>»' on troubled 
waters, but waters never blossom. 



64 



HOW TO COMPOSE AND WRITE LETTERS. 



Anything that wears floating robes is not furnished 
with a beak. 

The young of eagles are not in the habit of lying 
down with lambs. 



Floods do not have hot ploughshares. 

Why should anyone wish to preserve the Goddess 
of Liberty inseparable, as it would be an unheard-of 
experience for a Goddess to be divided ? 



How to Compose and Write Letters. 



O be a good letter writer is an accom- 
plishment as desirable as it is rare. 
Few persons possess the faculty of 
writing an interesting letter, politely and 
gracefully expressed. Unless you are an ex- 
ception to the general rule you become stiff 
and formal when you attempt to express 
your thoughts to a friend, or make known 
your wants to a man of business. The 
epistle is labored, unnatural and lacking in 
that ease which is the charm of conversation. 

" I now take my pen in hand," etc. Do 
get rid of all old, set forms of expression. 
Imagine the person to whom you are writing 
as placed right before you, and talk to him 
with your pen as you would with your 
tongue. 

There can be but one opinion concerning the 
general value of correspondence. How often 
people complain that they do not get letters 
from their friends. Neglect can be shown in 
no way more effectively than by failing to 
answer a letter when it ought to be written. 

In writing a letter, care should be taken 
that the different parts are properly arranged. 

First comes the Address of the "Writer. 

This is written at the top of the paper, towards the 
right side. If the address consists of several parts, 
each part is given a separate line ; thus — 
Livonia, 

Livingston Co., 

New York. 

After the address comes the Date of 
Writing. 

Next comes the Form of Address. 

fhii is always placed towards the left of the page, j 



and varies according to the relations between the 
sender and the receiver of the letter. Writing to an 
intimate friend, one may say, " My dear Tom," or (a 
little less familiarly) " My dear Brown.'' Writing to 
a friend who is also a superior in age or position, one 
would say, "My dear Mr. Brown." "Dear Sir" is 
formal, but claims some small degree of acquaint- 
ance or regard. " Sir " is purely formal. Similarly 
we may have, "My dear Annie," "My dear Mrs- 
Brown," "Dear Madam," and "Madam." In writ 
ing to Miss Jones, a stranger, you may not wish to 
say, " Dear Miss." It would be better in this in- 
stance to address her as " Miss Jones." 

After the form of address comes the 
Letter. 

A friendly letter should be easy and pleasant in 
style — it should be, in fact, a talk on paper. In a 
business letter, on the other hand, the style is brief 
and concise. The first aim of the writer is to make 
himself understood, the next to be brief. 

After the letter comes the Subscription, 



as, 
Or, 



Sincerely yours, 

Alexander Argyle. 

Respectfully yours, 

New England Coal Co. 



Or in more formal style, 

I am, dear sir, 

Your obedient servant, 

Thomas Lancaster. 

The subscription is arranged like the address, but 
begins further to the left. The form of subscription 
varies with the form of address. 

A business letter ends with the Address 
of the Person to whom it is Sent. 

This is written in the left corner. A friendly lettei 
generally ends with the subscription. 



HOW TO COMPOSE AND WRITE LETTERS. 



60 



Examples of Letters. 

Application for a Situation. 

345 Lancaster Street, 
15th February, 
Sir: 

Seeing by your advertisement in this morning's 
" Standard " that you are in need of an office boy, I 
beg leave to apply for the position. I have been for 
six years a pupil in the Commercial School, Old 
Bridge Street. My teacher permits me to refer you 
to him for an account of my conduct and abilities. I 
have therefore only to add that if I am fortunate 
enough to enter your employ, it shall be my aim to 
serve you diligently and faithfully. 
I am, Jir, 

Your obedient servant, 

Thomas Watson. 
{. W. Chambers, Esq., 

97 Dearborn Street. 

Letters of Invitation. 

Newark, September 11. 
My Dear Joe : 

Myself, and a half dozen other good fellows, are 
going to devote a few hours on Tuesday evening to 
the enjoyment of refreshments, chit-chat, and so on. 
I hope you will make one, as we have not enjoyed 
the "feast of reason and flow of soul" in each 
other's company for some time past. 

Believe me, dear Joe, 

Yours ever, 

Harry. 

Madison Square, November ie. 
Dear Mr. Robinson : 

My old friend Richard Roy is coming to take a 
chop with me on Saturday, the 1 5th, and I hope you 
will come and join us at six o'clock. I know you 
are not partial to large parties, so trust you will 
Vhink us two sufficient company. 

Yours ever truly, 

Washington, July 3. 
Hon. J. B. Granger, 
My Dear Sir : 
We are endeavoring to get up a small excursion 
to visit Mount Vernon on the 10th of this month. Will 
you do us the favor of making one of our number ? 

Mrs. and my family desire their compliments, 

and request me to mention that they have taken 
upon themselves the task of providing the " creature 
comforts " for that occasion, and trust that their ex- ' 



ertions will meet with unanimous approval. Should 
you have no previous engagement for that day, and 
feel disposed to join our party, a carriage will be at 
your door by 10 o'clock on Thursday morning ; and 
believe me to be, 

My dear sir, yours most sincerely, 
Hon. J. B. Granger. 
P. S. — The favor of an early answer will oblige 

Washington, July $. 
Mr. E. B. Allen, 
My Dear Sir : 

Replying to your kind invitation of this morning, 
I beg leave to say it would afford me great pleasure 
to join your excursion to Mount Vernon on the 10th 
inst. I will await your carriage at 10 o'clock on 
Thursday morning. Thanking you for your wel- 
come invitation, 

I am, my dear sir, very truly yours, 

j. B. Granger. 
Mr. E. B. Allen. 

Notes of Invitation. 

Mr. and Mrs. Thompson request the pleasure oi 
Mr. and Mrs. James's company, on Wednesday 
evening next, at eight o'clock, to join a social party. 
An immediate answer will much oblige. 

Fifth Avenue, January 9th. 

Mr. and Mrs. James will be most happy to ava£ 
themselves of Mr. and Mrs. Thompson's kind invita- 
tion to join their social party as requested. 

West Street, January 10th. 

Mr. and Mrs. James greatly regret their inability 
to accept Mr. and Mrs. Thompson's kind invitation 
to join their social party. Nothing would have af- 
forded them more pleasure than to be present b«t 
family affliction prevents them. 

West Street, January 10th. 

My Dear Bertha, — A few friends will be here 01, 
Wednesday evening next, to take a social cup ot 
tea, and chat about mankind in particular. Give us 
the pleasure of your company. 

S. Buckman. 

Prince Street, Saturday morning. 

My Dear Sophie, — It affords me great pleasure 
to inform you that I shall join your party on Wed- 
nesday evening next. Bertha Merwin 

Spring Street. Saturday afternoon. 



tip 



HOW TO COMPOSE AND WRITE LETTERS. 



Letters of Congratulation. 

Louisville, Ky., February 10. 
My Dear Hi ward: 

The news of your good fortune gives me great 
satisfaction. No one can possess true friendship 
without rejoicing in the prosperity of a friend. To 
One who has always been manly, true and noble, 
and who has labored persistently toward a particular 
end, success must be extremely gratifying. 

It will ever be my delight to hear that you are 
prospering in your undertakings, and if in any way 
I can serve you, you can rely upon my best en- 
deavors. With every good wish for yourself and 
Mrs. Kerr, Ever faithfully yours, 

St. Louis, Mo., June 15, 
Dear Old Friend : 

The happy announcement that a son and heir has 
been born to you, gives me extreme satisfaction. I 
always thought you would distinguish yourself in 
some way, and would do something whereby your 
name might descend to posterity. And now, my 
worthy chum, it seems you have done it. Blessings 



on you 



Very sincerely yours, 



Love Letters. 
My Dearest Harriet : 

I cannot express the happiness I feel in finding 
that my letter to your respected parents has been 
crowned with success, and I flatter myself, notwith- 
standing your temporizing with my feelings, in thus 
reserving your avowal of a reciprocal attachment, that 
you, my dear girl, will not be unsusceptible to its value. 
bet condescend to acknowledge an equal happiness 
with myself at its contents. In token of the confidence 
with which your dear letter has inspired me, I beg 
leave to present you with a trifle, the acceptance of 
which will be highly flattering to him whose image it 
portrays ; and permit me the fond pleasure of in- 
dulging a belief that you will esteem the trifle, in 
affectionate remembrance of the original. 

In obedience to your father's command, I shall 
wait upon him at the appointed time ; till then, my 
beloved Harriet, adieu. 

Ever your devoted admirer, 

Dear Sir : 

I make no doubt of the truth of your assertions, 
relative to yourself, character, and connections ; but 



as I think I am too young to enter into such a seri- 
ous engagement, I request I may hear no more oi 
your passion for the present ; in every other respect, 
I am, Sir, Yours very sincerely, 

Outlines to be Expanded into Letters. 

Inviting a Friend to Tea. 

1. Can you come to tea — day — hour. 

2. My birthday — several friends coming. 

3. Tea in orchard — then cricket in field. 

4. Hope mother will let you come — be home by 
nine. 

Accepting Invitation. 

1. Thanks for invitation — happy to accept. 

2. Glad to meet . 



3. Look forward to pleasant evening. 



Declining Invitation. 

1. Thanks for invitation — should have been glad 
to come. 

2. Sorry to lose chance of meeting . 

3. Father some time ago arranged to take me and 
my brother to . 

4. Hope you will have pleasant evening and many 
happy returns. 

From a Town Child to a Country Child. 

1. Town crowded — noisy — dirty — glad to get into 
country. 

2. Shall never forget visit to the country last 
summer. 

3. No streets — few houses — beautiful views — quiet 
— sweet air. 

4. Fine weather — many enjovable walks. 

5. Returned to town almost envying a country life- 

Answer from Country Child to Town Child. 

1. You almost envying country life — I almost 
envying town life. 

2. Country has the advantages you describe, but 
you saw it in summer. 

3. Difficult to get about in bad weather — especially 
in winter when much bad weather. 

4. Dull — no libraries, exhibitions, meetings, con- 
certs, etc. 

5. Town may have all the disadvantages named, 
but always plenty to see, opportunities for study, 
friendly intercourse, entertainments. 

6. Traveling easy. 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION 



FROM 



World-Renowned Authors. 



B 



O not consider yourself too ambi- 
tious when you make an earnest 
effort to express your thoughts 
so well that your productions will compare 
favorably with those of the best writers. 
You should have specimens of the best 
composition before you. The following 
pages contain such, and you will readily see 
how the most famous authors construct their 
sentences, what apt words they choose, and 
how easily, yet forcibly, they express their 
ideas- 



Do not be disheartened if you fail to come 
up to the standard here placed before you. It 
is related of the great painter, Correggio, 
that he was once almost ready to fling away 
his brush, exclaiming, " I can never paint 
like Raphael." But he persevered, and at 
length the great painter whom he admired 
so much said, " If I were not Raphael, I 
would wish to be Correggio." You should 
take the best writers for your models and set 
your standard high. Be a severe critic of 
yourself, and do your very best. 



GETTING THE RIGHT START. 

By J. G. Holland. 
In clear expression of thought and use of plain, forcible English, the works of Doctor Holland are superior 
to those of most authors. He does not employ large, overgrown words, but such as are easily understood. 
This ij one secret of the popularity of his writings. Dr. Holland was born at Belchertown, Mass., in 1819, 
and died October 12, 1881. He was associate editor of the " Springfield Republican," and in 1870 became 
editor of " Scribner's Magazine." Both as a writer of prose and po.etry he is held in high esteem by all 
lovers of elevated thought and pure diction. 




'OCIETY demands that a young 
man shall be somebody, not only 
but that he shall prove his right to 
the title; and it has a right to demand this. 
Society will not take this matter upon trust 
— at least, not for a long time, for it has 
been cheated too frequently. Society is not 
very particular what a man does, so that it 
proves him to be a man : then it will bow to 
him, and make room for him. 

I know a young man who made a place 
for himself by writing an article for the 
North American Review : nobody read the 
article, so far as I know, but the fact that he 
wrote such an article, that it was very long, 
and that it was published, did the business 
tor him Everybody, however, cannot write 



articles for the North American Review — 
at least I hope everybody will not, for it is 
a publication which makes me a quarterly 
visit ; but everybody, who is somebody, can 
do something. There is a wide range of effort 
between holding a skein of silk for a lady 
and saving her from drowning — between col- 
lecting voters on election day and teaching 
a Sunday-school class. 

A man must enter society of his own free 
will, as an active element or a valuable com- 
ponent, before he can receive the recognition 
that every true man longs for. I take it that 
this is right. A man who is willing to enter 
society as a beneficiary is mean, and does 
not deserve recognition. 

There ^ no surer sign of an unmanly and 

67 



68 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



cowardly spirit than a vague desire for help, 
a wish to depend, to lean upon somebody, 
and enjoy the fruits of the industry of others. 
There are multitudes of young men, I sup- 
pose, who indulge in dreams of help from 
some quarter, coming in at a convenient mo- 
ment, to enable them to secure the success 
in life which they covet. 

xne vision haunts them of some benevo- 
lent old gentleman with a pocket full of 
money, a trunk full of mortgages and stocks, 
and a mind remarkably appreciative of merit 
and genius, who will, perhaps, give or lend 
them anywhere from ten to twenty thousand 
dollars, with which they will commence and 
^o on swimmingly. Perhaps he will take a 
different turn, and educate them. Or, per- 
haps, with an eye to the sacred profession, 
they desire to become the beneficiaries of 
some benevolent society, or some gentle cir- 
de of female devotees. 

To me, one of the most disgusting sights 
in the world is that of a young man with 
healthy blood, broad shoulders, presentable 
calves, and a hundred and fifty pounds, more 
or less, of good bone and muscle, standing 
with his hands in his pockets', longing for 
help. I admit that there are positions in 
which the most independent spirit may ac- 
cept of assistance — may, in fact, as a choice 
of evils, desire it ; but for a man who is able 
to help himself, to desire the help of others 
in the accomplishment of his plans of life, is 
positive proof that he has received a most 
unfortunate training, or that there is a leaven 
of meanness in his composition that should 
make him shudder. 

Do not misunderstand me: I would not 
inculcate that pride of personal independence 
which repels in its sensitiveness the well- 
meant good offices and benefactions of friends, 
or that resorts to desperate shifts rather than 
incur an obligation. What I condemn in a 
young man is the love of dependence ; the 



willingness to be under obligation for tha* 
which his own efforts may win. 

Let this be understood, then, at starting ; 
that the patient conquest of difficulties which 
rise in the regular and legitimate channels of 
business and enterprise, is not only essential 
in securing the success which you seek, but it 
is essential to that preparation of your mine, 
which is requisite for the enjoyment of your 
successes, and for retaining them when 
gained. It is the general rule of Providence, 
the world over, and in all time, that unearned 
success is a curse. It is the rule of Provi- 
dence, that the process of earning success 
shall be the preparation for its conservation 
and enjoyment. 

So, day by day, and week by week; so, 
month after month, and year after year, work 
on, and in that process gain strength and 
symmetry, and nerve and knowledge, that 
when success, patiently and bravely worked 
for, shall come, it may find you prepared tc 
receive it and keep it. 

The development which you will get in 
this brave and patient labor, will prove itself, 
in the end, the most valuable of your suc- 
cesses. It will help to make a man of you. 
It will give you power and self-reliance. It 
will give you not only self-respect, but the 
respect of your fellows and the public. 

Never allow yourself to be seduced from 
this course. You will hear of young men 
who have made fortunes in some wild specu- 
lations. Pity them ; for they will almost 
certainly lose their easily won success. Do 
not be in a hurry for anything. Are you in 
love with some dear girl, whom you would 
make your wife ? Give Angelina Matilda to 
understand that she must wait; and if An- 
gelina Matilda is really the good girl you 
take her to be, she will be sensible enough 
to tell you to choose your time. 

You cannot build well without first laying 
a good foundation; and for you to enter 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



69 



upon a business which you have not patiently 
and thoroughly learned, and to marry before 
you have won a character, or even the rea- 
sonable prospect of a competence, is ulti- 
mately to bring your house down about the 
ears of Angelina Matilda, and such pretty 



children as she may give you. If, at the age 
of thirty years, you find yourself established 
in a business which pays you with certainty 
a living income, you are to remember that 
God has blessed you beyond the majority of 
men. 



DINAH THE METHODIST. 



By George Eliot. 
The works of Marian Evans' Cross created unusual interest when first published in England. Her 
"Adam Bede," "The Mill on the Floss" and 'Silas Marner," immediately placed her in the highest 
rank of the writers of fiction. For some time her identity was concealed, yet there were critics who 
suspected that "George Eliot " was the assumed name of a female author. Her writings are charac- 
terized by a keen insight into character, intellectual vigor and sympathy with the advanced thought of the 
day. She was born in 1819, and died in 1880. The selection from "Adam Bede," here given, is an 
excellent specimen from one of her well-known works. 




•EVERAL of the men followed Ben's 
lead, and the traveler pushed his 
horse on to the Green, as Dinah 
walked rather quickly, and in advance of her 
companions, toward the cart under the 
maple tree. While she was near Seth's tall 
figure she looked short, but when she had 
mounted the cart, and was away from all 
comparison, she seemed above the middle 
height of woman, though in reality she did 
not exceed it — an effect which was due to 
the slimness of her figure, and the simple 
line of her black stuff dress. 

The stranger was struck with surprise as 
he saw her approach and mount the cart — 
surprise, not so much for the feminine deli- 
cacy of her appearance, as at the total ab- 
sence of self-consciousness in her demeanor. 
He had made up his mind to see her ad- 
vance with a measured step, and a demure 
solemnity of countenance; he had felt sure 
that her face would be mantled with a smile 
of conscious saintship, or else charged with 
denunciatory bitterness. He knew but two 
types of Methodist — the ecstatic and the 
bilious. 

But Dinah walked as simply as if she were 
going to market, and seemed as unconscious 



of her outward appearance as a little boy t 
there was no blush, no tremulousness, which 
said, " I know you think me a pretty woman, 
too young to preach ; " no casting up or 
down of the eyelids, no compression of the 
lips, no attitude of the arms, that said, "But 
you must think of me as a saint." 

She held no book in her ungloved hands, 
but let them hang down lightly crossed-be- 
fore her, as she stood and turned her grey 
eyes on the people. There was no keenness 
in her eyes ; they seemed rather to be shed- 
ding love than making observations ; they 
had the liquid look which tells that the mind 
is full of what it has to give out, rather than 
impressed by external objects. 

The eyebrows, of the same color as the 
hair, were perfectly horizontal and firmly 
pencilled ; the eyelashes, though no darker, 
were long and abundant; nothing was left 
blurred or unfinished. 

It was one of those faces that make one 
think of white flowers with light touches of 
color on their pure petals. The eyes had no 
peculiar beauty, beyond that of expression ; 
they looked so simple, so candid, so gravely 
loving, that no accusing scowl, no light sneer, 
could help melting away before their glance. 



70 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION.. 



Joshua Rami gave a long cough, as if he 
were clearing his throat in order to come to 
a new understanding with himself; Chad 
Cranage lifted up his leather skull-cap and 
scratched his head ; and Wiry Ben won- 



dered how Seth had the pluck to trnutc of 
courting her. 

" A sweet woman," the stranger said to 
himself, " but surely Nature never meant her 
for a preacher." 



GODFREY AND DUNSTAN. 

By George Eliot. 
An excellent example of dialogue in fiction. 




'OME one opened the door at the 
other end of the room, and Nancy 
felt that it was her husband. She 
turned from the window with glad- 
ness in her eyes, for the wife's chief dread 
was stilled. 

" Dear, I'm so thankful you're come," she 
said, going towards him. " I began to get " — 

She paused abruptly, for Godfrey was lay- 
ing down his hat with trembling hands, and 
turned towards her with a pale face and a 
strange, unanswering glance, as if he saw her 
indeed, but saw her as part of a scene invis- 
ible to herself. She laid her hand on his 
arm, not daring to speak again; but he left 
the touch unnoticed, and threw himself into 
his chair. 

Jane was already at the door with the his- 
sing urn. " Tell her to keep away, will you ? " 
said Godfrey ; and when the door was closed 
again he exerted himself to speak more dis- 
tinctly. 

" Sit down, Nancy — there," he said, point- 
ing to a chair opposite him. " I came back 
as soon as I could to hinder anybody's tell- 
ing you but me. I've had a great shock — 
but I care most about the shock it'll be to 
you." 

" It isn't father and Priscilla ? " said Nancy, 
with quivering lips, clasping her hands to- 
gether tightly on her lap. 

" No, it's nobody living," said Godfrey, un- 
equal to the considerate skill with which he 



would have wished to make his revelation. 
" It's Dunstan — my brother Dunstan, that we 
lost sight of sixteen years ago. We've found 
him, — found his body — his skeleton." 

The deep dread Godfrey's look had created 
in Nancy made her feel these words a relief. 
She sat in comparative calmness to hear what 
else he had to tell. He went on : 

" The stone pit has gone dry suddenly, — 
from the draining, I suppose; and there he 
lies — has lain for sixteen years, wedged be- 
tween two great stones. There's his watch 
and seals, and there's my gold-handled hunt- 
ing whip, with my name on. He took it 
away, without my knowing, the day he went 
hunting on Wildfire, the last time he was 
seen." 

Godfrey paused ! it was not so easy to say 
what came next. " Do you think he drowned 
himself?" said Nancy, almost wondering 
that her husband should be so deeply shaken 
by what had happened all those years ago to 
an unloved brother, of whom worse things 
had been augured. 

" No, he fell in," said Godfrey, in a low but 
distinct voice, as if he felt some deep mean- 
ing in the fact. Presently he added : " Dun- 
stan was the man that robbed Silas Marner.'-' 

The blood rushed to Nancy's face and neck 
at this surprise and shame, for she had been 
bred up to regard even a distant kinship with 
crime as a dishonor. 

" O Godfrey 1 " she said, with compassion 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



71 



m her tone, for she had immediately reflected 
that the dishonor must be felt more keenly 
by her husband. 

" There was money in the pit," he continued, 
" all the weaver's money. Everything's been 
gathered up, and they have taken the skeleton 
to the Rainbow. But I came back to tell you. 
There was no hindering it; you must know." 

He was silent, looking on the ground for 
two long minutes. Nancy would have said 
some words of comfort under this disgrace, 
but she refrained, from an instinctive sense 
that there was something behind, — that God- 
frey had something else to tell her. Pre- 
sently he lifted his eyes to her face, and kept 
them fixed on her, as he said : 

" Everything comes to light, Nancy, sooner 
or later. When God Almighty wills it, our 
secrets are found out. I've lived with a 
secret on my mind, but I'll keep it from you 
no longer. I wouldn't have you know it by 
somebody else, and not by me — I wouldn't 
have you find it out after I'm dead. I'll tell 
you now. It's been ' I will ' and ' I won't ' 
with me all my life ; I'll make sure of myself 
now." 

Nancy's utmost dread had returned. The 
eyes of the husband and wife met with an 
awe in them, as at a crisis which suspended 
affection. 

" Nancy," said Godfrey slowly, " when I 
married you, I hid something from you, — 
something I ought to have told you. That 
woman Marner found dead in the snow — 
Eppie's mother — that wretched woman — was 
my wife ; Eppie is my child." 

He paused, dreading the effects of his con- 
fession. But Nancy sat quite still, only that 
her eyes dropped and ceased to meet his. 
She was pale and quiet as a meditative statue, 
clasping her hands on her lap. 

" You'll never think the same of me again," 
said Godfrey after a little while, with some 
tremor in his voice. She was silent. 



" I oughtn't to have left the child un- 
owned; I oughtn't to have kept it from you. 
But I couldn't bear to give you up, Nancy. 
I was led away into marrying her; I suffered 
for it." 

Still Nancy was silent, looking down ; and 
he almost expected that she would presently 
get up and say she would go to her father's. 
How could she have any mercy for faults 
that seemed so black to her, with her simple, 
severe notions ? 

But at last she lifted up her eyes to his 
again and spoke. There was no indignation 
in her voice ; only deep regret. 

" Godfrey, if you had told me this six 
years ago, we could have done some of our 
duty by the child. Do you think I'd have 
refused to take her in, if I'd known she was 
yours ? " 

At that moment Godfrey felt all the bitter- 
ness of an error that was not simply futile, 
but had defeated its own end. He had not 
measured this wife with whom he had lived 
so long. But she spoke again, with more 
agitation. 

"And — oh, Godfrey — if we'd had her from 
the first, if you'd taken to her as you ought, 
she'd have loved me for her mother — and 
you'd been happier with me ; I could better 
have bore my little baby dying, and our life 
might have been more like what we used to 
think it 'ud be." 

The tears fell, and Nancy ceased to speak. 

" But you wouldn't have married me then, 
Nancy, if I'd told you," said Godfrey, urged, 
in the bitterness of his self-reproach, to prove 
to himself that his conduct had not been 
utter folly. " You may think you would 
now, but you wouldn't then. With your 
pride and your father's, you'd have hated 
having anything to do with me after the 
talk there'd been." 

" I can't say what I should have done 
about that, Godfrey. I should never have 



72 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



married anybody else. But I wasn't worth 
doing wrong for; nothing is in this world. 
Nothing is so good as it seems beforehand ; 
not even our marrying wasn't, you see." 
There was a faint, sad smile on Nancy's face 
as she said the last words. 

" I'm a worse man than you thought I was, 
Nancy," said Godfrey rather tremulously. 
" Can you forgive me ever ? " 

" The wrong to me is but little, Godfrey. 
You've made it up to me ; you've been good 
to me for fifteen years. It's another you did 
the wrong to ; and I doubt it can never be 
all made up for." 



" But we can take Eppie now," said God- 
frey. " I won't mind the world knowing at 
last. I'll be plain and open for the rest o' 
my life." 

" It'll be different coming to us, now she's 
grown up," said Nancy, shaking her head 
sadly. "But it's your duty to acknowledge 
her and provide for her ; and I'll do my part 
by her, and pray to God Almighty to make 
her love me." 

" Then we'll go together to Silas Marner's 
this very night, as soon as everything's quiet 
at the Stone Pits." 



RIP VAN WINKLE. 



By Washington Irving. 
This charming author, who is a master of pure style, beautiful sentiment and pleasing humor, has 
been called the father of American literature. If this be not strictly true, it is a matter of record that no 
American authors before his time achieved any remarkable success. Mr. Irving was born in 1783, and 
died in 1859. He was particularly happy in portraying the quaint character and customs of the old Dutch 
settlers ih our country. He published a number of volumes, including " The Sketch Book," " Tales of a 
Traveler," "Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus,'' etc. One of Irving's best known and most 
delightful short productions is " Rip Van Winkle," from which the following extract is taken. The easy- 
going, inoffensive character of Rip is delightfully pictured. 



n3 I HE great error in Rip's composition 
* I was an insuperable aversion to all 
kinds of profitable labor. It could 
not be from the want of assiduity or perse- 
verance; for he would sit on a wet rock, 
with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's 
lance, and fish all day without a murmur, 
even though he should not be encouraged 
by a single nibble. 

He would carry a fowling-piece on his 
shoulder for hours together, trudging through 
woods and swamps, and up hill and down 
dale, to shoot a few squirrels or wild pigeons. 
He would never refuse to assist a neighbor 
even in the roughest toil, and was a foremost 
man at all country frolics for husking Indian 
corn, or building stone fences. 

The women of the village, too, used to 
employ him to run their errands, and to do 



such little odd jobs as their less obliging hus- 
bands would not do for them ; — in a word, 
Rip was ready to attend to anybody's busi- 
ness but his own ; but as to doing family 
duty and keeping his farm in order, he found 
it impossible. 

In fact, he declared it was of no use to 
work on his farm ; it was the most pestilent 
little piece of ground in the whole country ; 
everything about it went wrong, and would 
go wrong in spite of him. His fences were 
continually falling to pieces ; his cow would 
either go astray, or get among the cabbages; 
weeds were sure to grow quicker in his fields 
than anywhere else ; the rain always made a 
point of setting in just as he had some out- 
door work to do ; so that, though his patri- 
monial estate had dwindled away under his 
management, ace by acre, until there was 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



73 



little more left than a mere patch of Indian 
corn, and potatoes, yet it was the worst con- 
ditioned farm in the neighborhood. 

His children, too, were as ragged and 
wild as if they belonged to nobody. His 
son Rip, an urchin begotten in his own like- 
ness, promised to inherit the habits, with the 
old clothes, of his father. He was generally 
seen trooping like a colt at his mother's heels, 
equipped in a pair of his father's cast-off 
trousers, which he had much ado to hold up 
with one hand, as a fine lady does her train 
in bad weather. 

Rip Van Winkle, nowever, was one of 
those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled 
dispositions, who take the world easy, eat 
white bread or brown, whichever can be got 
with least thought or trouble, and would 
rather starve on a penny than work for a 
pound. If left to himself, he would have 
whistled life away in perfect contentment; 
but his wife kept continually dinning in his 
ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and 
the ruin he was bringing on his family. 

Morning, noon and night her tongue was 
incessantly going, and everything he said or 
did was sure to produce a torment of house- 



hold eloquence. Rip had but one way of 
replying to all lectures of the kind, and that 
by frequent use had grown into a habit. He 
shrugged his shoulders, shook his head, cast 
up his eyes, but said nothing. This, how- 
ever, always provoked a fresh volley from 
his wife, so that he was fain to draw off his 
forces and take to the outside of the house — 
the only side which, in truth, belongs to a 
henpecked husband. 

Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to 
despair, and his only alternative to escape 
from the labor of the farm, and the clamor 
of his wife, was to take gun in hand and 
stroll away into the woods. Here he would 
sometimes seat himself at the foot of. a tree, 
and share the contents of his wallet with his 
dog Wolf, with whom he sympathized as a 
fellow-sufferer in persecution. 

" Poor Wolf," he would say, "thy mistress 
leads thee a dog's life of it; but never mind, 
my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never want 
a friend to stand by thee." Wolf would wag 
his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, 
and if dogs can feel pity, I verily believe 
he reciprocated the sentiment with ill his 
heart. 



THE PURITANS OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY. 

By Lord Macaulay. 

Distinguished as a descriptive poet by his fine " Lays of Ancient Rome," and yet more distinguished as 
a master of English prose by his " Essays " and his noble " History of England," Thomas Babington 
Macaulay stands prominent as the most learned and eloquent of the essayists and critics of the nineteenth 
century. He was the son of Zachary Macaulay, known as the warm friend and co-laborer of Wilberforce 
and Clarkson, and was born at Rothley Temple, Leicestershire, October 25, 1800, and died in 1859. * n 
1818 he entered Trinity College, Cambridge, where he took his degree in 1822. Here he gave proof of his 
great intellectual powers, obtaining a scholarship, and twice gaining the Chancellor's medal for a poem 
called "Pompeii." To crown his triumphs, he secured a " Craven Scholarship," — the highest distinction 
in classics which the university confers. 

Lord Macaulay's glowing description of the Puritans has been pronounced the finest writing of its kinc? 
to be found in our language. It is the product of pre-eminent literary ability, and the highest genius. 




E would first speak of the Puritans 
of the sixteenth century, the most 
remarkable body of men, perhaps, 
which the world has evet produced. 



Those who roused the people to resist- 
ance — who directed their measures through 
a long series of eventful years — who formed, 
out of the most unpromising materials, the 



74 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



finest army that Europe had ever seen — who 
trampled down king, church, and aristocracy 
— who, in the short intervals of domestic 
sedition and rebellion, made the name of 
England terrible to every nation on the face 
of the earth — were no vulgar fanatics. 

Most of their absurdities were mere exter- 
nal badges, like the signs of freemasonry or 
the dresses of friars. We regret that these 
badges were not more attractive ; we regret 
that a body, to whose courage and talents 
mankind has owed inestimable obligations, 
had not the lofty elegance which distin- 
guished some of the adherents of Charles I., 
or the easy good breeding for which the 
court of Charles II. was celebrated. But, if 
we must make our choice, we shall, like 
Bassanio in the play, turn from the specious 
caskets which contain only the Death's head 
and the Fool's head, and fix our choice on 
the plain leaden chest which conceals the 
treasure. 

The Puritans were men whose minds had 
derived a peculiar character from the daily 
contemplation of superior beings and eternal 
interests. Not content with acknowledging, 
in general terms, an overruling Providence, 
they habitually ascribed every event to the 
will of the Great Being, for whose power 
nothing was too minute. To know him, to 
serve him, to enjoy him, was with them the 
great end of existence. 

They rejected with contempt the cere- 
monious homage which other sects substi- 
tuted for the pure worship of the soul. In- 
stead of catching occasional glimpses of the 
Deity through an obscuring vail, they aspired 
to gaze full on the intolerable brightness, and 
to commune with him face to face. Hence 
originated their contempt for terrestrial dis- 
tinctions. 

The difference between the greatest and 
meanest of mankind seemed to vanish 
when compared with the boundless inter- 



val which separated the whole race from 
Him on whom their own eyes were con- 
stantly fixed. 

They recognized no title to superiority but 
his favor ; and, confident of that favor, they 
despised all the accomplishments and all the 
dignities of the world. If they were unac- 
quainted with the works of philosophers and 
poets, they were deeply read in the ora- 
cles of God ; if their names were not found 
in the registers of heralds, they felt assured 
that they were recorded in the Book of Life ; 
if their steps were not accompanied by a 
splendid train of menials, legions of minister- 
ing angels had charge over them. Their 
palaces were houses not made with hands : 
their diadems, crowns of glory which should 
never fade away. 

On the rich and the eloquent, on nobles 
and priests, they looked down with con- 
tempt ; for they esteemed themselves rich in 
a more precious treasure, and eloquent in a 
more sublime language — nobles by the right 
of an earlier creation, and priests by the im- 
position of a mightier hand. The very mean- 
est of them was a being to whose fate a mys- 
terious and terrible importance belonged— on 
whose slightest actions the spirits of light and 
darkness looked with anxious interest— who 
had been destined, before heaven and earth 
were created, to enjoy a felicity which should 
continue when heaven and earth should have 
passed away. 

Events which short-sighted politicians 
ascribed to earthly causes had been ordained 
on his account. For his sake empires had 
risen and flourished and decayed; for his 
sake the Almighty had proclaimed his will 
by the pen of the evangelist and the harp of 
the prophet. He had been rescued by no 
common deliverer from the grasp of no com- 
mon foe; he had been ransomed by the 
sweat of no vulgar agony, by the blood of no 
earthly sacrifice. It was for him that the sun 




SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



75 



had been darkened, that the rocks had been 
rent, that the dead had arisen, that all nature 



had shuddered at the sufferings of her expir- 
ing God ! 



ON BEING IN TIME. 

By C. H. Spurgeon. 
When we examine Mr. Spurgeon's writings we are able to discover one great secret of his power. As no 
preacher of modern times was more successful, in like manner no other had such a vigorous command of 
plain English in the pulpit. The great majority of his words are short and simple, reminding one of the 
terse writings of the old Puritan authors. Mr. Spurgeon was born in 1834 and died in 1893. No other 
writer has published so many sermons and volumes of miscellaneous writings, and no other author of similar 
works has been so widely read. He was the marvel of his generation. 




"E who begins a little late in the morn- 
ing will have to drive fast, will be 
constantly in a fever, and will 
scarcely overtake his business at 
night ; whereas he who rises in proper time 
can enjoy the luxury of pursuing his calling 
with regularity, ending his work in fit season, 
and gaining a little portion of leisure. 

Late in the morning may mean puffing and 
blowing all the day long, whereas an early 
hour will make the pace an easy one. This 
is worth a man's considering. Much evil 
comes of hurry, and hurry is the child of un- 
punctuality. 

We once knew a brother whom we named 

" the late Mr. S ," because he never 

came in time. A certain tart gentleman, 
who had been irritated by this brother's un- 
punctuality, said that the sooner that name 
was literally true the better for the temper 
of those who had to wait for him. Many a 
man would much rather be fined than be 
kept waiting. If a man must injure me, let 
him rather plunder me of my cash than of 
my time. 

To keep a busy man waiting is an act of 
.impudent robbery, and is also a constructive 
insult. It may not be so intended, but cer- 
tainly if a man has proper respect for his 
friend, he will know the value of his time, 
and will not cause him to waste it. There 
is a cool contempt in unpunctuality, for it as 



good as says : " Let the fellow wait ; who 
is he that I should keep my appointment 
with him?" 

In this world, matters are so linked together 
that you cannot disarrange one without 
throwing others out of gear ; if one business 
is put out of time, another is delayed by the 
same means. The other day we were travel- 
ing to the Riviera, and the train after leav- 
ing Paris was detained for an hour and a 
half. This was bad enough, but the result 
was worse, for when we reached Marseilles 
the connecting train had gone, and we were 
not only detained for a considerable time, 
but were forced to proceed by a slow train, 
and so reached our destination six hours 
later than we ought to have done. All the 
subsequent delay was caused through the 
first stoppage. 

A merchant once said to us : "A. B. is a 
good fellow in many respects, but he is so 
frightfully slow that we cannot retain him in 
our office, because, as all the clerks work 
into each other's hands, his delays are mul- 
tiplied enormously, and cause intolerable in- 
convenience. He is a hindrance to the 
whole system, and he had better go where 
he can work alone." 

The worst of it is that we cannot send un- 
punctual people where they can work alone. 
To whom or whither should they go ? We 
cannot rig out a hermitage for each one, or 



76 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



that would be a great deliverance. If they 
prepared their own dinners, it would not 
matter that they dropped in after every dish 
had become cold. If they preached ser- 
mons to themselves, and had no other audi- 
ence, it would not signify that they began 
consistently seven minutes behind the pub- 
lished hour. If they were their own scholars, 
and taught themselves, it would be of no 
consequence if the pupil sat waiting for his 
teacher for twenty minutes. 

As it is, we in this world cannot get away 
from the unpunctual, nor get them away 
from us, and therefore we are obliged to put 
up with them ; but we should like them to 
know that they are a gross nuisance, and a 
frequent cause of sin, through irritating the 
tempers of those who cannot afford to 
squander time as they do. 

If this should meet the eye of any gen- 
tleman who has almost forgotten the mean- 



ing of the word " punctuality," we earnestly 
advise him to try and be henceforth five 
minutes too soon for every appointment, and 
then pei haps he will gradually subside into the 
little great virtue which we here recommend. 
Could not some good genius get up a 
Punctuality Association, every member to 
wear a chronometer set to correct time, and 
to keep appointments by the minute-hand? 
Pledges should be issued, to be signed by 
all sluggish persons who can summon up 
sufficient resolution totally to abstain from 
being behind time in church or chapel, or on 
committee, or at dinner, or in coming home 
from the office in the evening. Ladies eligi- 
ble as members upon signing a special 
pledge to keep nobody waiting while they 
run upstairs to pop on their bonnets. How 
much of sinful temper would be spared, and 
how much of time saved, we cannot venture 
to guess. Try it. 



JOHN PLOUGHMAN'S TALK ON HOME. 

By C. H. Spurgeon. 
The famous London minister v, rote a book entitled, "John Ploughman's Talk." His object was to 
express plain and homely truths in a quaint, humorous way, and thus gain the attention of common people 
whose reading is confined mostly to murder and divorce cases in newspapers. The enjoyment of the 
public in reading Mr. Spurgeon's pithy sayings was evinced by the enormous sale of the book. The 
extract here given is a fair specimen of its unique style. 

^ a HAT word home always sounds like 
^J I poetry to me. It rings like a peal of 
bells at a wedding, only more soft and 
sweet, and it chimes deeper into the ears of 
my heart. It does not matter whether it 
means thatched cottage or manor-house, 
home is home, be it ever so homely, and 
there's no place on earth like it. Green grow 
the houseleek on the roof forever, and let the 
moss flourish on the thatch. 

Sweetly the sparrows chirrup and the 
swallows twitter around the chosen spot 
which is my joy and my rest. Every bird 



loves its own nest ; the owl thinks the old 



ruins the fairest spot under the moon, and 
the fox is of opinion that his hole in the hill 
is remarkably cozy. When my master's nag 
knows that his head is towards home he 
wants no whip, but thinks it best to put on 
all steam ; and I am always of the same mind, 
for the way home, to me, is the best bit of 
road in the country. I like to see the smoke 
out of my own chimney better than the fire 
on another man's hearth ; there's something 
so beautiful in the way in which it curls up 
among the trees. 

Cold potatoes on my own table taste better 
than roast meat at my neighbor's, and the 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



7t 



honeysuckle at my own door is the sweetest 
I ever smell. When you are out, friends do 
their best, but still it is not home. " Make 
yourself at home," they say, because every- 
body knows that to feel at home is to feel at 

ease. 

" East and west, 
Home is best" 

Why, at home you are at home, ant* what 
more do you want ? Nobody grudges you, 
whatever your appetite may be ; and you 
don't get put into a damp bed. Safe in his 
own castle, like a king in his palace, a man 
feels himself somebody, and is not afraid of 
being thought proud for thinking so. Every 
cock may crow on his own dunghill ; and a 
log is a lion ?/hen he is at home. No need 
to guard every word because some enemy is 
on the watch, no keeping the heart under 
lock and key; but as soon as the door is 
shut it is liberty hall, and none to peep and 
pry. 

It is a singular fact, and perhaps some of 
you will doubt it — but that is your unbeliev- 
ing nature — our little ones are real beauties, 
always a pound or two plumper than others 
of their age ; and yet it don't tire you half so 
much to nurse them as it does other people's 
babies. Why, bless you, my wife would be 
tired out in half the time, if her neighbor had 
asked her to see to a strange youngster, but 
her own children don't seem to tire her at 
all. Now my belief is that it all comes of 
their having been born at home. 

Just so it is with everything else : our lane 
is the most beautiful for twenty miles round, 
because our home is in it ; and my garden is 
a perfect paradise, for no other particular 
reason than this very good one, that it be- 
longs to the old house at home. 

Husbands should try to make home happy 
and holy. It is an ill bird that fouls its own 
nest,abad man who makes his home wretched. 
Our house ought to be a little church, with 



holiness to the Lord over the door; but il 
ought never to be a prison, where there is 
plenty of rule and order, but little love and 
no pleasure. 

Married life is not all sugar, but grace in 
the heart will keep away most of the sours. 
Godliness and love can make a man, like & 
bird in a hedge, sing among thorns and 
briars, and set others a-singing too. It should 
be the husband's pleasure to please his wife. 
and the wife's care to care for her husband. 
He is kind to himsell who is kind to his 
wife. I am afraid some men live by the rule 
of self, and when that is the case home hap- 
piness is a mere sham. When husbands and 
wives are well yoked, how light their load 
becomes ! 

It is not every couple that is a pair, and 
the more 's the pity. In a true home all the 
strife is which can do the most to make the 
family happy. A home should be a Bethel, 
not a Babel. The husband should be the 
house-band, binding all together like a cor- 
ner-stone, but not crushing everything like a 
millstone. 

Nothing is improved by anger, unless it be 
the arch of a cat's back. A man with his 
back up is spoiling his figure. People look 
none the handsomer for being red in the face. 
It takes a great deal out of a man to get into 
a towering rage ; it is almost as unhealthy as 
having a fit, and time has been when men 
have actually choked themselves with pas- 
sion, and died on the spot. Whatever wrong 
I suffer, it cannot do me half so much hurt 
as being angry about it ; for passion shortens 
life and poisons peace. 

When once we give way to temper, tem- 
per will get right of way, and come in easier 
every time. He that will be in a pet for any 
little thing, will soon be out at elbows about 
nothing at all. A thunder-storm curdles the 
milk, and so does a passion sour the hearJ 
and spoil the character. 



78 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



LITTLE PEARL AND HER MOTHER. 

By Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

Hawthorne is justly regarded as one of the masters of English prose, although the shadowed side o: 
his life predominated and often gave a somewhat gloomy tinge to his writings. Yet through the morbid 
drapery by which he surrounds himself the light of his superb genius shines brilliantly. His style is a model 
k>( clearness, choice words and elevated sentiment. The extract given below is from " The Scarlet Letter,' 
one of his best works of fiction, and, in fact, one of the best that enriches our American literature. He 
possessed great originality, a rare power of analyzing character, a delicate and exquisite humor and marvel- 
ous felicity in the use of language. Mr. Hawthorne was born at Salem, Massachusetts, in 1804, and died 
in 1864. 




•O the mother and little Pearl were 
admitted into the hall of entrance. 
With many variations, suggested 
by the nature of his building-mate- 
rials, diversity of climate, and a different 
mode of social life, Governor Bellingham had 
planned his new habitation after the resi- 
dences of gentlemen of fair estate in his 
native land. 

Here, then, was a wide and reasonably 
lofty hall, extending through the whole depth 
of the house, and forming a medium of gen- 
eral communication, more or less directly, 
with all the other apartments. At one ex- 
tremity, this spacious room w?;s lighted by 
the windows of the two towers, which formed 
a small recess on either side of the portal. 
At the other end, though partly muffled - by 
a curtain, it was mere powerfully illuminated 
by one of those embowed hall-windows which 
we read of in old books, and which was pro- 
vided with a deep and cushioned seat. 

Here, on the cushion, lay a folio tome, 
probably of the Chronicles of England, or 
other such substantial literature; even as, in 
our own days, we scatter gilded volumes on 
the centre-table, to be turned over by the 
casual guest. The furniture of the hall con- 
sisted of some ponderous chairs, the backs of 
which were elaborately carved with wreaths 
of oaken flowers; and likewise a table in the 
same taste; the whole being of Elizabethan 
age, or perhaps earlier, and heirlooms, trans- 



ferred hither from the governor's paternal 
home. 

On the table — in token that the sentiment 
of old English hospitality had not been left 
behind — stood a large pewter tankard, at the 
bottom of which, had Hester or Pearl peeped 
into it, they might have seen the frothy rem- 
nant of a recent draught of ale. 

On the wall hung a row of portraits, rep- 
resenting the forefathers of the Bellingham 
lineage, some with armor on their breasts, 
and others with stately ruffs and robes of 
peace. All were characterized by the stern- 
ness and severity which old portraits so in- 
variably put on ; as if they were the ghosts, 
rather than the pictures, of departed worthies, 
and were gazing with harsh and intolerant 
criticism at the pursuits and enjoyments of 
living men. 

At about the center of the oaken panels 
that lined the hall was suspended a suit of 
mail, not, like the pictures, an ancestral relic, 
but of the most modern date; for it had been 
manufactured by a skillful armorer in Lon- 
don the same year in which Governor Bel- 
lingham came over to New England. There 
was a steel headpiece, a cuirass, a gorget and 
greaves, with a pair of gauntlets and a sword 
hanging beneath; all, and especially the 
helmet and breastplate, so highly burnished 
as to glow with white radiance and scatter an 
illumination everywhere about upon the floor. 

This bright panoply was not meant for 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



79 



mere idle show, but had been worn by the 
governor on many a solemn muster and 
training field, and had glittered, moreover, 
at the head of a regiment in the Pequod war. 
For, though bred a lawyer, and accustomed 
to speak of Bacon, Coke, Noye and Finch 
as his professional associates, the exigencies 
of this new country had transformed Gov- 
ernor Bellingham into a soldier, as well as a 
statesman and ruler. 

Little Pearl — who was as greatly pleased 
with the gleaming armor as she had been 
with the glittering frontispiece of the house 
- — spent some time looking into the polished 
mirror of the breastplate. 

" Mother," cried she, " I see you here. 
Look ! Look !" 

Hester looked, by way of humoring the 



child ; and she saw that, owing to the pecu* 
liar effect of this convex mirror, the scarlet 
letter was represented in exaggerated and 
gigantic proportions, so as to be greatly the 
most prominent feature of her appearance. 
In truth, she seemed absolutely hidden be- 
hind it. 

Pearl pointed upward, also, at a similar 
picture in the headpiece, smiling at her mo- 
ther with the elfish intelligence that was so 
familiar an expression on her small physiog- 
nomy. That look of naughty merriment 
was likewise reflected in the mirror, with so 
much breadth and intensity of effect, that it 
made Hester Prynne feel as if it could not 
be the image of her own child, but of an imp 
who was seeking to mold itself into Pearl's 
shape. 



THE BABY IN THE BATH-TUB. 

By Grace Greenwood. 

The following selection is an excellent example of sprightly and vivacious writing, a kind of com- 
position that is always entertaining to the reader. Under the assumed name of Grace Greenwood, Mrs. 
Sarah J. Lippincott was for many years a well-known and popular contributor to various periodicals. 
She also published several volumes, including works of fiction and stories of travel. She wrote poems 
that possessed much merit, thus exhibiting a wide range of talent. Her fine thoughts were expressed 
in a style of great ease, simplicity and beauty. Mrs. Lippincott was born in Onondaga County, New 
fork, in 1825, and died in 1898. 



"(©7Y NNIE! 

h\\ and si 
J^\\^_^ eric 



Sophie ! come up quick, 
see baby in her bath-tub ! " 
cries a charming little maiden, 
running down the wide stairway of an old 
country house, and half-way up the long hall, 
all in a fluttering cloud of pink lawn, her 
soft dimpled cheeks tinged with the same 
iovely morning hue. 

In an instant there is a stir and gush of 
light laughter in the drawing-room, and 
presently, with a movement a little more 
majestic and elder-sisterly, Annie and Sophie 
float noiselessly through the hall and up the 
soft-carpeted ascent, as though borne on their 
respective clouds of blue and white drapery, 



and take their way to the nursery, where a 
novel entertainment awaits them. It is the 
first morning of the eldest married sister's 
first visit home, with her first baby ; and the 
first baby, having slept late after its journey, 
is about to take its first bath in the old 
house. 

" Well, I declare, if here isn't mother, for- 
getting her dairy, and Cousin Nellie, too, 
who must- have left poor Ned all to himself 
in the garden, lonely and disconsolate, and I 
am torn from my books, and Sophie from 
her flowers, and all for the sake of seeing a 
nine-months-old baby kicking about in a 
bath-tub ! What simpletons we are ! " 



80 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



Thus Miss Annie, the proudc ladye of the 
family; handsome, haughty, with perilous 
proclivities toward grand socialistic theories, 
transcendentalism, and general strong-mind- 
edness ; pledged by many a saucy vow to a 
life of single dignity and freedom, given to 
studies artistic, aesthetic, philosophic, and 
ethical ; a student of Plato, an absorber of 
Emerson, an exalter of her sex, a contemner 
of its natural enemies. 

" Simpletons, are we ? " cries pretty Elinor 
Lee, aunt of the baby on the other side, and 
" Cousin Nellie " by love's courtesy, now 
kneeling close by the bath-tub, and receiv- 
ing on her sunny braids a liberal baptism 
from the pure, plashing hands of babyhood, 
— " simpletons, indeed ! Did I not once see 
thee, O Pallas-Athene, standing rapt before 
a copy of the ' Crouching Venus ? * 



" And this is a sight a thousand times 
more beautiful ; for here we have color, 
action, life, and such grace as the divinest 
sculptors of Greece were never able to en- 
trance in marble. Just look at these white, 
dimpled shoulders, every dimple holding a 
tiny, sparkling drop, — these rosy, plashing 
feet and hands, — this laughing, roguish face,- 
— these eyes, bright and blue and deep as 
lakes of fairy-land, — these ears, like dainty sea 
shells, — these locks of gold, dripping dia- 
monds, — and tell me what cherub of Titian, 
what Cupid of Greuze, was ever half so 
lovely ? I say, too, that Raphael himself 
would have jumped at the chance of painting 
Louise, as she sits there, towel in hand, in 
all the serene pride and chastened dignity of 
young maternity — of painting her as Ma- 
donna" 



CANDACE'S OPINIONS. 

By Harriet Beecher Stowe. 

Mrs. Stowe is particularly happy in portraying negro character. It requires for this a great appre- 
ciation of humor, and her writings abound in this, while her imagination and fine command of language 
make many of her writings brilliant and even poetical. 

Mrs. Stowe is the most celebrated American authoress. Her " Uncle Tom's Cabin " has been 
more widely read than any other work of fiction ever published. While in this work her conspicuous 
genius appears to fine advantage, she has nevertheless written other works, some of them describing 
Few England life and character, which are masterpieces. She was born at Litchfield, Conn., on the 
14th of June, 1812, and died at Hartford July 1st, 1896. 



I 



INTEND," said Mr. Marvyn, "to 
make the same offer to your hus- 
band, when he returns from work 
to-night." 

" Laus, Mass'r — why, Cato, he'll do j'es' 
as I do — dere a'n't no kind o' need o' askin' 
him. Course he will." 

A smile passed round the circle, because 
between Candace and her husband there 
existed one of those whimsical contrasts 
which one sometimes sees in married life. 
Cato was a small-built, thin, softly-spoken 
negro, addicted to a gentle chronic cough; 
and, though a faithful and skillful servant, 



seemed, in relation to his better half, much 
like a hill of potatoes under a spreading 
apple-tree. Candace held to him with a 
vehement and patronizing fondness, so devoid 
of conjugal reverence as to excite the com- 
ments of her friends. 

"You must remember, Candace," said a 
good deacon to her one day, when she was 
ordering him about at a catechizing, "you 
ought to give honor to your husband ; the 
wife is the weaker vessel." 

"/ de weaker vessel?" said Candace, 
looking down from the tower of her ample 
corpulence on the small, quiet man whom 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



81 



she had been fledging with the ample folds 
of a worsted comforter, out of which his lit- 
tle head and shining bead-eyes looked,, much 
like a blackbird in a nest — " I de weaker 
vassel ! Umph ! " 

A whole woman's rights convention could 
not have expressed more in a day than was 
given in that single look and word. Can- 
dace considered a husband as a thing to be 
taken care of — a rather inconsequent and 
somewhat troublesome species of pet, to be 
humored, nursed, fed, clothed, and guided 
in the way that he was to go — an animal 
that was always losing off buttons, catching 
colds, wearing his best coat every day, and 
getting on his Sunday hat in a surreptitious 
manner for week-day occasions; but she 
often condescended to express it as her 
opinion that he was a blessing, and that she 
didn't know what she'd do if it wasn't for 
Cato. 

She sometimes was heard expressing her- 



self very energetically in disapprobation of 
the conduct of one of her sable friends, named 
Jinny Stiles, who, after being presented with 
he*" own freedom, worked several years to 
buy that of her husband, but became after- 
wards so disgusted with her acquisition, that 
she declared she would " neber buy anoder 
nigger." 

" Now, Jinny don't know what she's talkin' 
about," she would say. " S'pose he does 
cough and keep her awake nights, and take 
a little too much sometimes, a'n't he better'n 
no husband at all ? A body wouldn't seem 
to hab nuffin to lib for, ef dey hadn't an old 
man to look arter. Men is nate'lly foolish 
about some tings — but dey's good deal bet- 
ter'n nuffin." 

And Candace, after this condescending re- 
mark, would lift with one hand a brass ket- 
tle in which poor Cato might have been 
drowned, and fly across the kitchen with it 
as if it were a feather. 



MIDSUMMER IN THE VALLEY OF THE RHINE. 



By George Meredith. 
An example of beautiful description. 




N oppressive slumber hung about the 
forest-branches. In the dells and 
on the heights was the same 
dead heat. Here where the 
brook tinkled it was no cool-lipped sound, 
but metallic, and without the spirit of 
water, bonder in a space of moonlight 
on lush grass, the beams were as white 
fire to sight and feeling. No haze spread 
around. The valleys were clear, defined to 
the shadows of their verges ; the distances 
sharply distinct, and with the colors of day 
but slightly softened. 

Richard beheld a roe moving across a 
slope of sward far out of rifle-mark. The 
breathless silence was significant, yet the 
(6-x) 



moon shone in a broad blue heaven. Tongue 
out of mouth trotted the little dog after him ; 
couched panting when he stopped an instant ; 
rose weariedly when he started afresh. Now 
and then a large white night-moth flitted 
through the dusk of the forest. 

On a barren corner of the wooded highland 
looking inland stood gray topless ruins 
set in nettles and rank grass-blades. Richard 
mechanically sat down on the crumbling 
flints to rest, and listened to the panting oi 
the dog. Sprinkled at his feet were emerald 
lights : hundreds of glow-worms studded the 
dark dry ground. 

He sat and eyed them, thinking not at all. 
His energies were expended in action, h*. 



82 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



sat as a part of the ruins, and the moon 
turned his shadow westward from the south. 
Overhead, as she declined, long ripples of 
silver cloud were imperceptibly stealing to- 
ward her. They were the van of a tempest. 
He did not observe them, or the leaves be- 
ginning to chatter. When he again pursued 
his course with his face to the Rhine, a huge 
mountain appeared to rise sheer over him, 
and he had it in his mind to scale it. He 
got no nearer to the base of it for all his 
rigorous outstepping. The ground began 
to dip; he lost sight of the sky. Then 



heavy thunder-drops struck his cheek, the 
leaves were singing, the earth breathed, it 
was black before him and behind. All at 
once the thunder spoke. The mountain he 
had marked was bursting over him. 

Up started the whole forest in violent fire, 
He saw the country at the foot of the hills to 
the bounding Rhine gleam, quiver, extin- 
guished. Then there were pauses ; and the 
lightning seemed as the eye of heaven, and 
the thunder as the tongue of heaven, each 
alternately addressing him ; filling him with 
awful rapture. 



THE POWER OF NATURAL BEAUTY. 

By Ralph Waldo Emerson. 

"The Sage of Concord," as Mr. Emerson was called, expresses the estimate the American public 
placed upon his writings. His profound thought and originality are unquestioned. To these grand 
qualities he added a poetic imagination which diffused a fine glow over all his productions. 

Mr. Emerson was born in Boston in 1803, graduated from Harvard College in 1821, and entered 
the ministry of the Unitarian Church, from which, however, he shortly resigned, and soon devoted 
himself to literary pursuits. His works have a high reputation among scholars and speculative thinkers. 
His style is singularly terse and at times almost abrupt, but his thoughts are masterly and striking. 
He died in 1882. 




^ 1 EAUTY is the mark God sets upon 

virtue. Every natural action is 

graceful. Every heroic act is 

also decent, and causes the place 

and the bystanders to shine. We are taught 

by great actions that the universe is the 

property of every individual in it. 

Every rational creature has all nature for 
his dowry and estate. It is his if he will. 
He may divest himself of it ; he may creep 
into a corner, and abdicate his kingdom, 
as most men do ; but he is entitled to the 
world by his constitution. In proportion 
to the energy of his thought and will, he 
takes up the world into himself. " All those 
things for which men plough, build, or sail, 
obey virtue;" said an ancient historian. 
"The winds and waves," said Gibbon, "are 
always on the side of the ablest navigators." 



So are the sun and moon and all the stars ot 
heaven. 

When a noble act is done — perchance in a 
scene of great natural beauty; when Leon- 
ides and his three hundred martyrs consume 
one day in dying, and the sun and moon 
come each and look at them once in the 
steep defile of Thermopylae; when Arnold 
Winkelreid, in the high Alps, under the 
shadow of the avalanche, gathers in his side 
a sheaf of Austrian spears to break the line 
for his comrades ; are not these heroes en- 
titled to add the beauty of the scene to the 
beauty of the deed ? When the bark of 
Columbus nears the shore of America; — 
before it the beach lined with savages, fleeing 
out of all their huts of cane 
and the purple 
Archipelago around, can we separate the 



; thcsea behind ; 
mountains of the Indian 



■I 



SPECIMENS OF ELEGANT COMPOSITION. 



83 



man from the living picture ? Does not the 
New World clothe his form with her palm 
groves and savannahs as fit drapery ? 

Ever does natural beauty steal in like air, 
and envelop great actions. When Sir Harry 
Vane was dragged up the Tower-hill sitting 
on a sled, to suffer death, as the champion of 
the English laws, one of the multitude cried 
out to him, " You never sate on so glorious 
& seat." Charles II., to intimidate the citi- 
zens of London, caused the patriot Lord 
Russel to be drawn in an open coach through 
the principal streets of the city, on his way to 
the scaffold. " But," to use the simple nar- 
rative of his biographer, " the multitude im- 
agined they saw liberty and virtue sitting 
by his side." 

In private places, among sordid objects, an 
act of truth or heroism seems at once to draw 
to itself the sky as its temple, the sun as its 
candle. Nature stretcheth out her arms to 
embrace man, only let his thoughts be of 
equal greatness. Willingly does she follow 
his steps with the rose and the violet, and 
bend her lines of grandeur and grace to the 
decoration of her darling child. Only let 
his thoughts be of equal scope, and the frame 
will suit the picture. A virtuous man is in 
unison with her works, and makes the cen- 
tral figure of the visible sphere. 

The noonday darkness of the American 
forest, the deep, echoing, aboriginal woods, 



where the living columns of the oak and fir 
tower up from the ruins of the trees of the 
last millennium ; where, from year to year, 
the eagle and the crow see no intruder; the 
pines, bearded with savage moss, yet touched 
with grace by the violets at their feet ; the 
broad, cold lowland, which forms its coat of 
vapor with the stillness of subterranean crys- 
tallization ; and where the traveler, amid the 
repulsive plants that are native in the swamp, 
thinks with pleasing terror of the distant 
town ; this beauty — haggard and desert 
beauty, which the sun and the moon, the 
snow and the rain repaint and vary, has never 
been recorded by art, yet is not indifferent to 
any passenger. 

All men are poets at heart. They serve 
nature for bread, but her loveliness over- 
comes them sometimes. What mean these 
journeys to Niagara; these pilgrims to the 
White Hills ? Men believe in the adapta- 
tions of utility always. In the mountains they 
may believe in the adaptations of the eye. 

Undoubtedly the changes of geology have 
a relation to the prosperous sprouting of the 
corn and peas in my kitchen garden; but 
not less is there a relation of beauty between 
my soul and the dim crags of Agiocochoo< 
up there in the clouds. Every man, when 
this is told, hearkens with joy, and yet his 
own conversation wiri> nature is still un- 
sung. 



Subjects for Compositions. 

fO aid you in writing compositions a lengthy list of subjects is here furnished. These, 
you will sec, are adapted to persons of various ages and capacities. Many of them 
are comparatively simple and require no profound thought, while others are deep 
enough to tax all your powers ot reason. , 

Do not choose a subject that is too abstruse and difficult. Plain narration and 
description should go before profound argument. Yet do not be satisfied with a simple 
theme if )'ou are capable of writing upon one that demands more study and thought. 
When you have chosen your subject, you should be guided by the practical hints and 
directions contained in the first pages of this volume, which you should faithfully study. 

Many of the subjects here presented will require a good deal of reading and research 
before you can write upon them intelligently. This is true especially of the historical and 
biographical subjects. If you find history to be a fascinating study, as it is to most persons, 
you will become so filled and enamored with your theme, that you can write upon it easily. 

Never consider it too much trouble to prepare yourself thoroughly to write your 
compositions. If you would have nuggets of gold you must dig for them. Success is 
worth all it costs, however much that may be. Remember Bulwer Lytton's saying, 
" The pen is mightier than the sword." 



HISTORICAL SUBJECTS. 

The Landing of the Pilgrims. 
Captain John Smith and Pocahontas, 
The French and Indian War. 
The Siege of Quebec. 
King Philip's War. 
Washington at Valley Forge. 
The Surrender of Lord Cornwallis. 
The Discovery of the Mississippi River. 
Sir Walter Raleigh in Virginia. 
The Pequod War. 

Witchcraft at Salem, Massachusetts. 
The Old Charter Oak at Hartford. 
Destruction of Tea in Boston Harbor. 
The Battles of Lexington and Concord. 
The Famous Ride of Paul Revere. 
The Siege of Boston. 
The Battle of Long Island. 
The Battle of the Brandywine. 
The Murder of Miss McCrea. 
The Battle of Monmouth. 
The Surrender of Burgoyne's Army. 
84 



The Siege of Savannah. 
Washington Crossing the Delaware. 
The Massacre of Wyoming. 
The Treason of Benedict Arnold. 
The Execution of Major Andre. 
The Duel Between Hamilton and Burr. 
The Battle of Monterey. 
The Battle of Chapultepec. 
The Siege of Vicksburg. 
General Sherman's March to the Sea. 
Jackson's Victories in Virginia. 
The Death of " Stonewall Jackson." 
The Story of Cuban Insurrections. 
The Great Naval Battle at Manila. 
The Great Naval Battle at Santiago. 
The Exploits of the " Rough Riders " at 
San Juan. 

The Execution of John Brown. 
The Massacre at Fort Dearborn. 
The Discovery of Gold in California. 
The Opening of the Pacific Railroad. 
The Discovery of Gold in. Alaska- 
The Massacre of General Custer. 



i^^^ 



SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS. 



The Indian Wars in the Northwest. 
The World's Fair at Chicago. 
The Centennial Exhibition at Philadelphia. 
The Story of the Old Liberty Bell at 
Philadelphia. 
The Great Flood at Johnstown, Pa. 
The Destruction of the Battleship Maine. 
The Invention of Printing. 
Magna Charta, the Charter of Rights. 
Constantinople Taken by the French. 
The Moors Driven Out of Spain. 
The Reformation in England. 
The Invasion of Peru by Pizarro. 
The Battle of Trafalgar. 
The Spanish Armada. 
The Battle of Balaklava. 
The Gunpowder Plot (1605). 
The Atrocities of the Paris Commune. 
The Execution of Charles I. 
The Bursting of the South Sea Bubble. 
The Battle of Waterloo. 
The Dismemberment of Poland. 
The Great Mutiny in India. 
The French Revolution. 
The Martyrdom of Joan of Arc. 
The Crusades. 
The Siege of Troy. 
The Great Plague in London. 
The Battle of the Boyne. 
The Imprisonment of James I. of Scotland. 
The Story of Mary, Queen of Scots. 

BIOGRAPHICAL SUBJECTS. 

Miles Standish. 
Cotton Mather. 
Benjamin Franklin. 
John Jay. 
Samuel Adams. 
Fisher Ames. 
George Washington. 
William Penn. 
Marquis de Lafayette. 
Count Pulaski. 
General Israel Putnam. 



General Anthony Wayne. 

General Ethan Allen. 

Thomas Jefferson. 

Andrew Jackson. 

Martha Washington. 

Commodore Perry. 

Commodore Decatur. 

Daniel Webster. 

Henry Clay. 

Patrick Henry. 

John Hancock. 

General Winfield Scott. 

Zachary Taylor. 

The Indian Chief Tecumseh. 

William Henry Harrison. 

John C. Fremont. 

Abraham Lincoln. 

Robert E. Lee. 

Ulysses S. Grant. 

James A. Garfield. 

General William T. Shermar. 

Mary Lyon. 

Frances E. Willard. 

Susan B. Anthony. 

Clara Barton. 

Henry W. Longfellow. 

William Cullen Bryant. 

The Cary Sisters. 

Washington Irving. 

James Fenimore Cooper. 

Francis Scott Key. 

John Howard Payne. 

Daniel Boone. 

David Crockett. 

General Sam Houston. 

Lord Nelson. 

The Duke of Wellington. 

Napoleon Bonaparte. 

The Duke of Marlborough. 

Robert Bruce. 

Robert Burns. 

John Bright. 

William E. Gladstone. 

Alfred Tennyson. 



86 



SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS. 



Daniel O'Connell. 

Robert Emmet. 

Florence Nightingale. 

John Knox. 

Julius Caesar. 

Demosthenes. 

Cicero. 

Hannibal. 

Alexander the Great. 

Socrates. 

Xantippe. 

Queen Elizabeth. 

Oliver Cromwell. 

William Pitt. 

Frederick the Great. 

Captain Kidd. 

Ferdinand de Soto. 

Hernando Cortez. 

Sir John Franklin. 

Elisha Kent Kane. 

Cyrus W. Field. 

Professor Samuel B. F. Morse. 

Alexander T. Stewart. 

Peter Cooper. 

John Jacob Astor. 

William H. Vanderbilt. 

SUBJECTS FOR NARRATION AND 
DESCRIPTION. 

A New England Thanksgiving. 

The Puritan Sabbath. 

The Deserted Farm. 

The Dangers of Frontier Life. 

Natural Resources of the United States. 

Social Customs of the Last Century. 

A Spanish Bull Fight. 

The Falls of Niagara. 

The Hudson River. 

Mount Washington. 

A Western Prairie. 

The Cotton Fields of the South. 

The Orange Groves of Florida. 

" The Father of Waters." 

The Rapid Growth of Western Cities. 



! A Ranch in the South- West. 
The Cowboys of the Plains. 
The Great Trees of California. 
The Geysers of the Yellowstone Park. 
The Instinct in Animals. 
Some Recent Invention. 
Some Public Institutions. 
The Physical Characteristics of your State 
A Country Farm. 
Your Home Enjoyments. 
Fresh Air and its Uses. 
Town and Country Schools. 
Some Out Door School Games. 
The Beauties of Summer. 
The Remarkable Instinct of Birds. 
An Arctic Expedition. 
A Railway Station. 
A Picture Gallery. 
Electric Lights. 
Winds and Clouds. 
The Pastime of Fishing. 
The Pastime of Skating. 
Agricultural Implements. 
Habits of Domestic Animals. 
A Flower Garden. 
Singing Birds. 
Migration of Birds. 
The American Eagle. 
The Uses of Cats and Dogs. 
The Game of Foot Ball. 
The Game of Base Ball. 
Your Favorite Book. 
The County in which your School is Situ 
ated. 

School Life : its Joys and Difficulties. 
Castles in the Air. 
The Pleasures of Christmas. 
Leaning Tower of Pisa. 
The Vatican at Rome. 
St. Paul's Cathedral in London. 
The Capitol at Washington. 
The White House at Washington. 
The Suspension Bridge between New York 
and Brooklyn. 



SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS. 



87 



Bunker Hill Monument. 

Mammoth Cave in Kentucky. 

Independence Hall in Philadelphia. 

An Ocean Steamship. 

An American Battleship. 

Coal Mines of Pennsylvania. 

A Seaside Watering Place. 

A Country Picnic. 

A Clam Bake by the Sea-shore. 

A Sleigh Ride. 

A Century Run on Bicycles. 

Your Favorite Walk. 

The Value of Sunshine. 

A Thunder Storm. 

A Summer Vacation. 

POPULAR PROVERBS. 

More Haste, Less Speed. 

Necessity is the Mother of Invention. 

What Can't be Cured must be Endured. 

Well Begun is Half Done. 

All that Glitters is not Gold. 

Evil Communications Corrupt Good Man- 
ners. 

Honesty is the Best Policy. 

A Stitch in Time Saves Nine. 

Prevention is Better than Cure. 

A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss. 

Make Hay while the Sun Shines. 

Birds of a Feather Flock Together. 

Knowledge is Power. 

Take Care of the Pennies and the Dollars 
will take Care of Themselves. 

A Bird in the Hand is Worth Two in the 
Bush. 

The Longest Way Around is the Shortest 
Way Home. 

The Proof of the Pudding is in the 
Eating. 

If yor would Shoot High you must Aim 
High. 

Marry in Haste and Repent at Leisure. 

People who Live in Glass Houses should 
not Throw Stones 



Be Sure you are Right, then Go Ahead. 

It is an 111 Wind that Blows Good to no 
One. 

Every Crow Thinks her own Little Crows 
the Blackest. 

You Cannot Make a Silk Purse out of 3 
Sow's Ear. 

The Least Said, the Soonest Mended. 

Speech is Silver, Silence is Golden. 

Manners Make the Man. 

SUBJECTS TO BE EXPOUNDED 

Benefits of Industry. 

Evils of Idleness. 

Summer Sports in the Country. 

Winter Amusements in Cities. 

Shop Windows at Christmas Time. 

Habits of Economy. 

Advantages of Travel. 

Temptations of Riches. 

Dangers of Trades Unions. 

Benefits of Application. 

Advantages of Muscular Exercise. 

Physical and Moral Perils of Muscular Ex- 
ercise. 

Effects of Machinery upon Manual Labor. 

Pleasures of Literature. 

Sources of National Wealth. 

Benefits of Self-Control. 

Modern Methods of BenevoIenc<\ 

Responsibilities of Scholars. 

Causes of Commercial Decline. 

Advantages of a National Bankrupt Law. 

Peculiarities of the New England Poets. 

The Character of Wilkins Micawber. 

Claims of the Indians to Government Pro- 
tection. 

Evils of Immigration. 

Characteristics of the English Novel. 

Incentives to Literary Exertion. 

Reforms Suggested in " Oliver Twist." 

American Tendencies to Extrav?gance, 

Uses of Gold. 

Uses of Public Libraries. 



88 



SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS. 



Infirmities of Genius. 
Excellencies of the Puritan Character. 
Miseries of Authorship. 
Blessings of Liberty. 
Pleasures in Contemplating Nature. 
Dangers that Threaten our Republic. 
Advantages of Method. 
Distinctions in Society. 
Rewards of Literary Labor. 
Struggles for Civil Freedom. 
Advantages of Competition. 
Uses of Adversity. 
Advantages of Self- Reliance. 
Evils of Prejudice. 
The Colonial Period of Our History. 
Uses of Art. 
Self-Made Men. 

Dickens' Caricatures of English Schools. 
Irving's Portraitures of the Dutch Settlers. 
Injuries of Stimulants. 
Evils of Centralization. 
Advantages of Modern Inventions. 
Uses of Coal. 

Sources of Corruption in Civil Offices. 
Elements of Success in Life. 
Dangers of the French Republic. 
Changes of Fashion. 
Social Dangers from Anarchists. 
Longfellow's " Hiawatha." 
Longfellow's " Evangeline." 
Oliver Wendell Holmes's Humor. 
Character of Eugene Field's Poetry. 
Characteristics of American Humor. 
Hardships of the New England Settlers. 
Persecution of the Jews. 
Causes of Nihilism in Russia. 
English Ideas of America. 
Methods of Reform in the Civil Service. 
Benefits of Mechanical Exhibitions. 
Strikes and Arbitrations. 
Time : its Use and Abuse. 
Employers and Men: their Rights and 
Relations. 

The Study of Modern Languages. 



The Study of Ancient Languages. 

Industry and Energy. 

The Duty of Cleanliness. 

Punctuality. 

Courage. 

Fortitude. 

Cruelty to Animals. 

The Law of Supply and Demand. 

" Right before Might." 

The Telescope and Microscope. 

Manhood Suffrage. 

" The New Woman." 

Uses and Abuses of Money. 

The Cultivation of Music. 

Amusements for Young People. 

The Great Discoverers of Queen Eliza 
beth's Reign. 

Pleasures of the Imagination. 

Natural History as a Study. 

Your Favorite Female Character. 

The Cultivation of Memory. 

Mental Discipline from the Study of Math 
ematics. 

Knowledge the Best Kind of Wealth. 

The Position and Prospects of the United 
States. 

The Influence of Scenery on Character. 

Sketch of the Plot of Any One of Shake- 
speare's Plays. 

How to Best Help the Poor. 

Influence of Works of Fiction. 

Description of Any One of Sir Waltei 
Scott's Poems and Novels. 

Changes Caused by the Invention of the 
Typewriter. 

The Saloon in Modern Politics. 

The Evils of Great Trusts. 

Utility of Shorthand. 

Great Poets of England. 

Dante's Inferno. 

The Alhambra. 

The Catacombs of Rome. 

The Style of John Bunyan. 

The Consolations of Age. 



SUBJECTS FOR COMPOSITIONS, 



89 



The Dangers Arising from Great Trusts. 

The Coast Guard Service. 

The Wrongs of Ireland. 

Plot of any one of Bret Harte s Novels. 

The Lives of the Poor in Large Cities. 

On Making Music a Profession. 

The Novel Entitled " Lorna Doone." 

The Duty of Cheerfulness. 

Cervantes, the Soldier and the Writer. 

Our American Humorists. 

Martin Luther's Moral Courage. 

Truth the Standard of Excellence. 

The Evils of Prejudice. 

The Power of Ridicule. 

The Power of Early Impressions. 

The Exiles of Siberia. 

Politics as a Profession. 

SUBJECTS FOR ARGUMENT. 

Should a Polygamist be Admitted to Con- 
gress ? 

Should Eight Hours Constitute a Day's 
Labor ? 

Should Political Spoils Belong to the 
Victors ? 

Is a National Debt a Benefit ? 

Is Poverty an Incentive to Crime ? 

Should the United States Maintain a Large 
Standing Army ? 

Should Office Holders be Assessed for 
Party Expenses ? 

Is Drunkenness any Excuse for Murder? 

Would Harmony in Human Beliefs be 
Desirable ? 

Should There be a Uniform Divorce Law 
in All Our States ? 

Can a Country be Free Without Free 
Trade ? 

Should Church Property be Exempt from 
Taxation ? 

Should Capital Punishment be Abolished? 

T^o Luxuries Become Necessities? 

Should a Man Vote Who Cannot Read? 

Was Thackeray a Cynic? 



Should Public School Money be Given to 
Religious Sects ? 

Should Writers Adopt Phonetic Spelling? 

Is a Man of Business Benefited by a Clas- 
sical Education ? 

Is Literature Indicative of National Pro= 
gress ? 

Is Electricity Destined to Become the 
Greatest Motive Power? 

Should the Inventor Monopolize His In- 
vention ? 

Should Cremation Supersede Burial ? 

Was the Execution of Andre Unjust ? 

Is Crime in Our Country on the Increase ? 

Does the Press in Our Country have too 
much Freedom ? 

SUBJECTS FOR COMPARISON. 

Falsehood and Truth. 

Practice and Habit. 

Wit and Humor. 

Extravagance and Thrift. 

Confusion and Order. 

The Democrats and Whigs. 

Natural and Acquired Ability. 

The Comparative Value of Iron a»< 
Gold. 

Foreign and Domestic Commerce. 

The Cavalier and the Puritan. 

Waterloo and Sedan. 

The Stage Coach and the Locomotive. 

The Uses and Abuses of Fashion. 

Capital and Labor. 

Genius and Talent. 

Romance and Reality. 

" The Pen is Mightier than the Sword." 

Notoriety and Reputation. 

Resolution and Action. 

Working and Dreaming. 

Leo X and Martin Luther. 

The Statesmanship of Hamilton and Jeffei 
son. 

War and Arbitration. 

Helen and Andromache. 



90 



SUBJECTS FOR COT POSITIONS: 



"When the Law Ends, Tyranny Begins." 
" Deep Versed in Books, and Shallow in 
Himself." 
The Victories of Peace and of War. 
Hypocrisy and Sincerity. 
Solitude and Society. 
Affection and Naturalness. 
Brusque People and Fawning People. 

MISCELLANEOUS SUBJECTS FOR 
COMPOSITIONS. 

Looking on the Bright Side. 
The Character of Busybodies. 
Benevolence and Greed. 
Character of the Pilgrims. 
Painting and Sculpture. 
The Head and the Heart. 
Party Spirit and Good Government. 
The Responsibility of Our Country to 
Mankind. 

The Obligation of Treaties. 

Great Men the Glory of their Country. 

Ancient and Modern Eloquence. 

Conscience and the Will. 

The Heroism of the Indian. 

Religion and Pleasure. 

Spiritual Freedom. 

The Present Age. 

The Humorousness of Love Matches. 

The Influence of Woman. 

The Mission of Reformers. 

The True Aristocracy. 



The Expansion of the Republic 
The Bible and the Iliad. 
The Huguenots in Carolina. 
Puritan Intolerance. 
The Compensations of Calamity. 
Stateliness and Courtesy. 
Truth and Tenderness. 
Loungers in Corner Groceries. 
A Defense of Enthusiasm. 
The Ancient Mound Builders. 
The Power of Words. 
The Advantages of Playing Golf. 
College Athletics. 
The Physique of Americans. 
The Influence of Climate on Physical 
Characteristics. 

" Home is Where the Heart is." 

Coral Treasures of the Sea. 

Sublimity of the Ocean. 

The Beauty of Sea Waves. 

The Power of Maternal Love. 

The Beauty of Heroic Deeds. 

The Ravages of War. 

Children and Flowers. 

Earning Capital. 

The Sacredness of Work. 

" The Boy is the Father of the Man." 

The Last Hours of Socrates. 

The Discoveries of Astronomy. 

Luck and Labor. 

The Achievements of Earnestness. 

The Ideal Citizen. 



Synonyms and antonyms. 




E use words to express ideas and thoughts. The best words are those which 
best express the thought or idea. All writers are frequently at a loss for the 
exact word or phrase that will express their meaning the most forcibly, and are 
compelled to ransack and search their vocabulary in order to get out of the difficulty. 

The number of words used by the majority of persons is very small, and they are there 
fore in constant danger of the fault of repetition. We do not like to hear a speaker use 
the same word too frequently. To do so detracts seriously from the force arid beauty 
of his address. While there are instances in which a repetition of a word is called for, and 
to make use of another would weaken the sentence and fail to fully give the meaning of the 
writer or speaker, it is nevertheless true that constant repetitions are not only a blemish, but 
a fault that should be corrected. 

For the purpose of avoiding too much repetition in writing and speaking it is necessary 
to have a Dictionary of words of similar meaning. A Synonym is one of two or more 
words of similar significance which may often be used interchangeably. An Antonym is 
a word of opposite meaning. In the following list the Synonyms are first given ; then 
follow, in parenthesis, the Antonyms, or words of opposite meaning. 

All persons who would acquire an elegant style in literary composition, correspondence 
or ordinary conversation, will find this comprehensive Dictionary of Synonyms and Anto- 
nyms of great value. Jewels of thought should be set in appropriate language. 

In this table the letter a means adjective; v means verb ; n means noun or substantive. 

ABLE — competent, qualified, skilled, efficient, capa- 
ble, clever, adroit, adept, strong, telling, masterly. 
(Incompetent, weak, unskilful, unqualified.) 

ABODE — dwelling, residence, domicile, home, quar- 
ters, habitation, iodging, settlement. (Transition, 
shifting, wandering, pilgrimage, peregrination.) 

ABOLISH — efface, extinguish, annihilate, nullify, 
destroy, undo, quash, annul, cancel, abrogate, 
quench, suppress, vitiate, revoke. (Introduce, 
establish, enforce, restore. ) 

ABOMINABLE— detestable, hateful, odious, exe- 
crable. (Choice, excellent, attractive, select.) 

ABORTIVE — ineffectual, futile, inoperative, defec- 
tive, inadequate. (Efficient, productive, complete. \ 

ABOUT — around, near to, nearly, approximately , 
contiguous. (Remote from, distant.) 

ABSCOND — take oneself off, " vamoose, ' ' disappear, 
decamp, run away. (Thrust oneself into notice.) 

ABSENT — not present, wanting, absentminded, 
abstracted, inattentive, listless, dreamy, visionary. 
(Present, collected, composed, vigilant, observant 

ABSOLUTE — certain, unconditioned, unconditional, 
unlimited, unrestricted, transcendent, authorita- 
tive, paramount, imperative, arbitrary, despotic 
(Conditional, limited, hampered, fettered.) 

ABSORB — suck up, imbibe, engross, drain away, 
consume. (Reserve, save, spare, husband, econ- 
omize, hoard up.) 

ABSURD — unreasonable, nonsensical, foolish, vain, 
impracticable. (Reasonable, prudent, veracious.) 

91 



ABANDON — forsake, desert, renounce, relinquish. 
(Keep, cherish.) 

ABANDONED — deserted, forsaken, profligate, 
wicked, reprobate, dissolute, flagitious, corrupt, 
depraved, vicious. (Respected, esteemed, cher- 
ished, virtuous.) 

ABASEMENT — degradation, fall, degeneracy, hu- 
miliation, abjectness, debasement, servility. (Ele- 
vation, promotion, honor.) 

ABASH — disconcert, discompose, confound, confuse, 
shame, bewilder. (Embolden.) 

ABBREVIATE — shorten, curtail, contract, abridge, 
condense, reduce, compress. (Lengthen, extend, 
enlarge, expand.) 

ABDICATE — renounce, resign, relinquish. (Usurp.) 

ABET — incite, stimulate, whet, encourage, back up, 
second, countenance, assist. (Dampen, discour- 
age, dispirit, depress, repress, oppose.) 

ABETTOR — instigator, prompter, assistant, coad- 
jutor, accomplice, accessory, particeps criminis. 
(Extinguisher.) 

ABHOR — loathe, abominate, (Love, admire.) 

ABILITY — power, skill, gumption, efficiency, mas- 
tery, qualification, faculty, expertness. (Incom- 
petence, inefficiency, inability.) 

A.BJECT — despised, despicable, vile, grovelling, 
mean, base, worthless, servile. (Supreme, august, 
commanding, noble.) 

9 BJURE — forswear, disclaim, unsay, recant, revoke, 
deny, disown. (Attest, affirm.) 



92 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



ABUSE, v.— pervert, deprave, traduce, debase, dis- 
parage, slander, calumniate, rail at, reproach, 
depreciate. (Improve, develop, cultivate, promote, 
biess, magnify, appreciate.) 

ABUSE, 11. — perversion, ill-usage, depravation, de- 
basement, slander, reproach. ^Cultivation, use, 
promotion, development, appreciation, raise.) 

ACCEDE— join, assent, acquiesce in, comply, agree, 
concur, coincide, approve. (Dissent, object, 
decline, refuse.) 

ACCELERATE — hasten, hurry, speed, expedite, 
quicken, precipitate, facilitate. (Retard, delay, 
procrastinate, arrest, stop, impede, suspend.) 

ACCEPT — take, receive, assume, acknowledge, en- 
dorse. (Refuse, repudiate, protest, disown.) 

ACCEPTABLE — pleasant, grateful, welcome. (Re- 
pugnant, displeasing. ) 

ACCIDENT — casualty, contingency, hap, mishap, 
chance, mischance, misadventure. (Law, order.) 

ACCOMMODATE— adjust, adapt, fit, conform, rec- 
oncile, suit, oblige, furnish, convenience. (Cross, 
thwart, counteract, plot against, checkmate, de- 
feat, inconvenience.) 

ACCOMPLICE) — confederate, ally, associate, acces- 
sory, particcps criminis. (Adversary, rival, spy, 
opponent, enemy. ) 

ACCOMPLISH— complete, perform, finish, fulfil, 
execute, perfect, consummate, achieve, effect, carry 
out. (Fail, miscarry, undo, wreck, frustrate.) 

ACCOMPLISHMENT— success, fulfilment, comple- 
tion, performance, execution, achievement, con- 
summation, attainment. (Failure, miscarriage, 
wreck, ruin. ) 

4.CCORD — harmonize, agree, allow, grant, concede. 
(Jar, clash with, deny, disallow.) 

ACCOST — address, confront, speak to, greet, salute. 
(Evade, fight shy of. ) 

ACCOUNT, v. — compute, estimate, reckon up, take 
stock of. (Leave unexplained, unsolved.) 

ACCOUNT, n. — reckoning, relation, charge, bill. 
(Riddle, mystery, puzzle, unknown quantity.) 

ACCOUNTABLE — answerable, responsible, amen- 
able. (Exempt, free, irresponsible.) 

ACCUMULATE— heap up, save, collect. (Scatter, 
dissipate, diffuse, spend, squander.) 

ACCUMULATION— heap, amount, glut, (Dissi- 
pation, dissemination, distribution, diminution.) 

ACCURATE — definite, precise, correct, exact. (In- 
accurate, wrong, erroneous, blundering, careless.) 

ACHIEVE — complete, gain, win. 

ACHIEVEMENT— feat, exploit, distinguished per- 
formance, acquirement. (Abortion, frustration, 
failure, shortcoming, defect.) 

ACKNOWLEDGE) — avow, confess, own, recognize, 
admit, grant, concede. (Repudiate, disclaim, 
disallow, disown, deny. 

ACQUAINT — make known, apprise, inform, com- 
municate, intimate, "otify. (Leave ignorant, keep 
secret, conceal.) 

ACQUAINTANCE— knowledge, familiarity, fellow- 
ship, companionship. (Ignorance, stranger. ) 

ACQUIESCE — yield, concur, agree, assent. (Protest, 
object, dissent, secede, oppose. ) 



ACQUIT — set free, release, discharge, clear, absolve, 
exculpate, exonerate, liberate, deliver. (Accuse- 
impeach, charge, blame, convict.) 

ACT, v. — do, perform, commit, operate, work, prac- 
tice, behave, personate, play, enact. (Neglect, 
cease, desist, rest, wait, lie idle, refrain.) 

ACTION — working, agency, operation, business, 
gesture, engagement, fight, deed, battle, feat. 
(Inaction, repose, rest, idleness, ease, indolence., 
inertia, passiveness, quiescence, dormancy.) 

ACTIVE — energetic, busy, stirring, alive, brisk, 
operative, lively, agile, nimble, diligent, sprightly, 
alert, quick, supple, prompt, industrious. (Passive, 
inert, dead, extinct, dull, torpid, sluggish, indo 
lent, lazy, dormant, quiescent, asleep.) 

ACTUAL — real, positive, existing, certain. (False, 
imaginary, theoretical, illusive, fictitious.) 

ACUTE — sharp, pointed, penetrating, piercing, 
keen, • poignant, pungent, intense, violent, shrill, 
sensitive, sharp-witted, shrewd, discriminating, 
clever, cunning. (Obtuse, blunt, bluff, dull, flat, 
callous, stupid, apathetic.) 

ADAPT — fit, suit, adjust, conform, regulate. (Misfit, 
discommode, dislocate.) 

ADDICTED — committed to, devoted, prone, given 
up to, inclined, habituated. (Uncommitted, free, 
uncompromised, neutral. ) 

ADDITION— annexation, accession, supplement, 
adjunct, affix, appendage, accessory, incremeiz , 
increase, complement, plus, more. (Subtraction, 
deduction, retrenchment, curtailment, deprivation, 
minus, less, loss, impoverishment.) 

ADDRESS — speech, salutation, accost, appeal ; also 
skill, dexterity, adroitness ; also direction, name ; 
also residence. (Response, answer, reply, rejoin- 
der ; also awkwardness, maladroitness, clumsiness, 
slovenliness. ) 

ADHESION — sticking, adherence, adoption, attach- 
ment, espousal. (Repulsion, revulsion, antipathy, 
aversion, hostility, incompatibility, dislike.) 

ADJACENT — next, near, nigh, at hand, alongside, 
close by, adjoining, contiguous, bordering, neigh 
boring, proximate. (Remote, foreign, distant, 
aloof, far, apart, asunder.) 

ADJOURN — put off, postpone, defer, delay, keep in 
abeyance, prorogue, suspend, procrastinate, retard, 
waive, remand, reserve. (Conclude, clinch, ac- 
celerate, precipitate.) 

ADJUNCT — appendage, affix, annex, annexation, 
appendix, adhesion, appurtenance. (Curtailment, 
retrenchment, lop, mutilation, reduction, clipping, 
docking, filching.) 

ADJUST — make exact, set right, fit, adapt, dovetail, 
arrange, harmonize, settle, regulate. (Confound, 
confuse muddle, disorder, perplex, embarrass, 
entangle, clash, jar, jumble, disarrange, unsettle) 

ADMIRABLE — wonderful, excellent, choice, noble, 
grand, estimable, lovely, ideal, surpassing, extra- 
ordinary, eminent. (Detestable, vile, mean, con- 
temptible, despicable, worthless, wretched, villain- 
ous, pitiful.) 

ADMIT — allow, permit, suffer, receive, usher, grant, 
acknowledge, confess, concede, accept. (Deny, 
refuse, shut out, forbid, disown, disclaim. ) 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



93 



ADVANTAGEOUS— protitable, serviceable, useful, 
beneficial, helpful, of value. (Disadvantageous, 
detrimental, prejudicial, injurious, hurtful, harm- 
ful, deleterious, obnoxious, pernicious.) 

AFFECTION— bent, inclination, partiality, attrac- 
tion, impulse, love, desire, passion, fascination ; 
also suffering, disease, morbidness. (Repulsion, 
revulsion, antipathy, dislike, recoil, aversion, 
estrangement, indifference, coldness, alienation ; 
also wholeness, soundness, healthiness.) 

AFFECTIONATE— loving, kind, fond, doting, ten- 
der, amiable, cordial, hearty, good-hearted. (Cold, 
unloving, unkind, heartless, selfish, crabbed, sour, 
malign, malicious, malevolent, misanthropic, cyn- 
ical, ill-natured, cruel, hating. ) 

AGREEABLE — pleasant, acceptable, grateful, re- 
freshing, genial, pleasing, palatable, sweet, charm- 
ing, delectable. (Disagreeable, displeasing, un- 
pleasant, ungrateful, harsh, repellent, painful, 
noxious, plaguy, irritating, annoying, mortifying.) 

ALTERNATING — reciprocal, correlative, inter- 
changeable, by turns, vice versa. (Monotonous, 
unchanging, continual. ) 

AMBASSADOR — messenger, envoy, emissary, le- 
gate, nuncio, diplomatist, diplomate, representa- 
tive, vicegerent, plenipotentiary, minister, agent. 
(Principal, government, sovereign, power.) 

AMEND — improve, correct, better, meliorate, rec- 
tify, prune, repair, revise, remedy, reform. (Injure, 
impair, damage, harm, hurt, mar, mangle, blemish, 
deteriorate, ruin, spoil.) 

ANGER — resentment, animosity, wrath, indignation, 
pique, umbrage, huff, displeasure, dungeon, irrita- 
tion, irascibility, choler, ire, hate. (Kindness, 
benignity, bonhomie, good nature.) 

APPROPRIATE — assimilate, assume, possess one- 
self of, take, grab, clutch, collar, snap up, capture, 
steal. (Relinquish, give up, surrender, yield, re- 
sign, forego, renounce, abandon, discard, dismiss. ) 

.ARGUE — reason, discuss, debase, dispute, contend. 
(Obscure, darken, myst' f y, mislead, misrepresent, 
evade, sophisticate.) 

ARISE — rise, ascend, mount, climb, soar, spring, 
emanate, proceed, issue. (Descend, fall, gravitate, 
drop, slide, settle, decline, sink, dismount, alight.) 

ARTFUL — cunning, crafty, skilful, wily, designing, 
politic, astute, knowing, tricky. (Artless, na'ive, 
natural, simple, plain, ingenuous, frank, sincere, 
open, candid, guileless, straightforward, direct.) 

ARTIFICE — contrivance, stratagem, trick, design, 
plot, machination, chicanery, knavery, jugglery, 
guile, jobbery. (Artlessness, candor, openness, 
simplicity, innocence, ingenuousness.) 

ASSOCIATION — partnership, fellowship, solidarity, 
league, alliance, combination, coalition, federa- 
tion, junto, cabal. (Opposition, antagonism, con- 
flict, counteraction, resistance, hinderance, count- 
erplot, detachment, individualism.) 

ATTACK — assault, charge, onset, onslaught, incur- 
sion, inroad, bombardment, cannonade. (Defence, 
protection, guard, TO ard, resistance, stand, repulse, 
rebuff, retreat.) 

AUDACITY — boldness, defiance, prowess, intre- 
pidity, mettle, game, pluck, fortitude, rashness, 
temerity* presumption, foolhardiness, courage, 



hardihood. (Cowardice, pusillanimity, timidity, 
meekness, poltroonery, fear, laution. calculation, 
discretion, prudence.) 

AUSTERE — severe, harsh, rigid, stern, rigorous, 
uncompromising, inflexible, obdurate, exacting, 
straight-laced, unrelenting. (Lax, loose, slack, 
remiss, weak, pliant, lenient, mild, indulgent, 
easy-going, forbearing, forgiving. ) 

AVARICIOUS— tight-fisted, griping, churlish, par- 
simonious, stingy, penurious, miserly, niggardly, 
close, illiberal, ungenerous, covetous, greedy, 
rapacious. (Prodigal, thriftless, improvident, ex- 
travagant, lavish, dissipated, freehanded.) 

AVERSION — antipathy, revulsion, repulsion, dis- 
like, recoil, estrangement, alienation, repugnance, 
disgust, nausea. (Predilection, fancy, fascination, 
allurement, attraction, magnet. ) 

AWE — dread, fear, reverence, prostration, admira- 
tion, bewilderment. (Familiarty, indifference, 
heedlessness, unconcern, contempt, mockery. ) 

AXIOM — maxim, aphorism, apophthegm, adage, 
motto, dictum, theorem, truism, proverb, saw. 
(Absurdity, paradox.) 

BABBLE — splash, gurgle, bubble, purl, ripple, prat- 
tle, clack, gabble, clash, jabber, twaddle, prate, 
chatter, blab. (Silence, hush. ) 

BAD — depraved, defiled, distorted, corrupt, evil, 
wicked, wrong, sinful, morbid, foul, peccant, nox- 
ious, pernicious, diseased, imperfect, tainted, 
touched. (Good, whole, sound, healthy, benefi- 
cial, salutary, prime, perfect, entire, untouched, 
unblemished, intact, choice, worthy.) 

BAFFLE — thwart, checkmate, defeat, disconcert, 
confound, block, outwit, traverse, contravene, 
frustrate, balk, foil. (Aid, assist, succor, further, 
forward, expedite, sustain, second, reinforce.) 

BASE — crude, undeveloped, low, villainous, mean, 
deteriorated, misbegotten, ill-contrived, ill-consti- 
tuted. (Noble, exalted, lofty, sublime, excellent, 
elect, choice, aristocratic, exquisite, capital. ) 

BEAR — carry, hold, sustain, support, suffer, endure, 
beget, generate, produce, breed, hatch. (Lean, 
depend, hang, yield, sterile, unproductive. ) 

BEASTLY — bestial, animal, brutal, sensual, gross, 
carnal, lewd. (Human, humane, virtuous, moral, 
ethical, intellectual, thoughtful, spiriaial. ) 

BEAT — strike, smite, thrash, thwack, thump, pum- 
mel, drub, leather, baste, belabor, birch, scourge, 
defeat, surpass, rout, overthrow. (Protect, de 
fend, soothe. ) 

BEAUTIFUL — fair, complete, symmetrical, hand- 
some. (Ugly, repulsive, foul.) 

BECOMING— suiting, accordant, fit, seemly. (DL- 
crepant, improper, in bad form. ) 

BEG — beseech, crave, entreat. (Offer, proffer.) 

BEHAVIOR — carriage, deportment, conduct. 

BENEFICENT— bountiful, generous, liberal. (Sor. 
did, mercenary.) 

BENEFIT — good, advantage, service. (Loss, detri- 
ment, injury.) 

BENEVOLENCE— well-wishing, charity '**gl& 
volence, malice, hate. 1 

BLAME— censure, reproach. (Approve, honors 



lU 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



BLEMISH — flaw, stain, spot, imperfection, defect. 
(Ornament, decoration, embellishment, adorn- 
ment, finery, gilding.) 

BLIND — dimsighted, ignorant, uninformed. (Sharp- 
sighted, enlightened.) 

BLOT — efface, cancel, expunge, erase. (Record.) 

BOLD — brave, daring, fearless, intrepid, courageous. 
(Cowardly, timid, shy, chicken-hearted.) 

BORDER — margin, boundary, frontier, confine, 
fringe, hem, selvedge, valance. (Inclosure, in- 
terior, inside.) 

BOUND — circumscribe, limit, restrict, confine, en- 
close ; also leap, jump, hop, spring, vault, skip. 
(Enlarge, clear, deliver; also plunge, dip, sink.) 

BRAVE — dare, defy. (Cave in, show the white 
feather. ) 

BREAK — bruise, crush, pound, squeeze, crack, snap, 

splinter. (Bind, hold together, knit, rivet.) 
BREEZE — blow, zephyr. (Stillness, hush, calm.) 
BRIGHT— shining, lustrous, radiant. (Dull, dim.) 
BRITTLE— frangible, fragile, frail. (Tough. ) 
BURIAL — interment, sepulture, obsequies. (Exhu- 
mation, disinterment. ) 
BUSINESS — occupation, employment, pursuit, voca- 
tion, calling, profession, craft, trade. (Leisure, 
vacation, play.) 
BUSTLE— stir, fuss, ado, flurry. (Quiet, stillness.) 

CALAMITY — misfortune, disaster, catastrophe. 

(Good luck, prosperity.) 
CALM — still, motionless, placid, serene, composed. 
(Stormy, unsettled, restless, agitated, distracted.) 
CAPABLE — competent, able, efficient. (Unqualified. ) 
CAPTIOUS — censorious, cantankerous. (Concilia- 
tory, bland. ) 
CARE — solicitude, concern. (Negligence, careless- 
ness, nonchalance.) 
CARESS — fondle, love, pet. (Spurn, disdain.) 
CARNAGE — butchery, gore, massacre, slaughter. 
CAUSE — origin, source, ground, reason, motive. 
CENSURE— reprehend, chide. (Approve.) 
CERTAIN — sure, infallible. (Doubtful, dubious.) 
CESSATION — discontinuance, stoppage, rest, halt. 

(Perseverance, persistence, continuance.) 
CHANCE — accident, luck. (Intention, purpose. ) 
'CHANGE — exchange, bourse, mart, emporium. 

CHANGEABLE— mutable, variable, fickle. (Stead- 
fast, firm. ) 

CHARACTER — constitution, nature, disposition. 
CHARM— fascination, enchantment, witchery, at- 
traction (Nuisance, mortification, bore, plague.) 
CHASTITY — purity, virtue. (Concupiscence.) 
CHEAP — inexpensive, worthless. (Dear, costly.) 
CHEERFUL— blithe, lightsome, brisk, sprightly. 

(Melancholy, sombre, morose, gloomy, sad.) 
CHIEF — sachem, head, ruler. (Vassal, henchman.) 
CIRCUMSTANCE— situation, predicament. 
CLASS — division, category, department. o«^f. kind, 
sort, genus, species, variety 



CLEVER — adroit, dexterous, expert, deft, ready 
smart. (Awkward, dull, shiftless, clumsy.) 

CLOTHED— dressed, arrayed, apparelled. (Dis- 
robed, stripped.) 

COARSE — crude, unrefined. (Refined, cultivated) 

COAX — cajole, wheedle, fawn, lure, induce, entic. 
( Dissuade, indispose, warn, admonish. ) 

COLD — frigid, chill, inclement. (Hot, glowing. ) 

COLOR — hue, tint, tinge, tincture, dye, shade, stain. 
(Pallor, paleness, wanness, blankness, achroma- 
tism, discoloration.) 

COMBINATION — coalescence, fusion, faction, coali- 
tion, league. (Dissolution, rupture, schism.) 

COMMAND — empire, rule. (Anarchy, license.) 

COMMODITY — goods, effects, merchandise, stock. 

COMMON — general, ordinary, mean, base. (Rare, 
exceptional, unique. 

COMPASSION — pity, commiseration, sympathy. 
( Cruelty, severity. ) 

COMPEL — force, coerce, oblige, necessitate, make, 
constrain. (Let alone, tolerate. ) 

COMPENSATION— amends, atonement, requital. 
(Withholding.) 

COMPENDIUM— abstract, tpitome, digest. (Am- 
plification, expansion. ) 

COMPLAIN — lament, murmur, regret, repine, de- 
plore. (Rejoice, exult, boast, brag, chuckle. ) 

COMPLY — consent, yield, acquiesce, (Refuse, 
deny, decline. ) 

COMPOUND, a. — composite, complex, blended. 
(Simple, elementary.) 

COMPREHEND — comprise, contain, embrace, in. 
elude, enclose, grasp. (Exclude, reject, mistake, 
eliminate, loss. ) 

CONCEAL — hide, secrete, cover, screen, shroud, 
veil, disguise. (Publish, report, divulge ) 

CONCEIVE — grasp, apprehend, devise, invent 
( Ignorant of. ) 

CONCLUSION— result, finding. (Undetermined.) 

CONDEMN — convict, find guilty, sentence, doom. 
( Acquit. ) 

CONDUCT, v. — direct, manage, govern. (Follow, 
obey, submit. ) 

CONFIRM — corroborate, ratify, endorse, support, 
uphold. (Weaken, enfeeble, reduce.) 

CONFLICT — contend, contest, wrestle, tussle, clash, 
wrangle. ( Harmonize, agree, fraternize, concur. ) 

CONFUTE— refute, disprove. (Demonstrate.) 

CONQUER — defeat, vanquish, overcome. (Fail, be 

beaten, lose.) 
CONSEQUENCE— effect, derivation, result, event, 

issue. (Cause, origin, source, antecedent.) 
CONSIDER— reflect, deliberate. (Forget, ignore.) 
CONSISTENT— accordant, concordant, compatible, 
consonant, congruous, reconcilable, harmonious. 
(Discordant, discrepant.) 
CONSOLE— relieve, soothe, comfort. (Embitter.) 
CONSTANCY — continuance, tenacity, stability 

( Irresolution , fickleness.) 
CONTAMINATE— Pollute, stain, taint, tarnish 
blur, smudge, defile. (Cleanse, purify, purge.) 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



95 



CONTEMN — despise, disdain, <»corn. (Esteem, ap- 
precite, admire.) 

CONTEMPLATE — survey, scan, observe, intend. 
(Disregard. ) 

CONTEMPTIBLE — despicable, paltry, shabby, beg- 
garly, worthless, vile, cheap, trashy. (Estimable.) 

CONTEND— fight, wrangle, vie. (Be at peace.) 

CONTINUAL — perpetual, endless, ceaseless. (Mo- 
mentary, transient,) 

CONTINUE — remain, persist, endure. (Desist, stay. ) 

CONTRADICT— deny, gainsay, oppose. (Affirm, 
assert, declare.) 

CORRECT — mendj rectify. (Impair, muddle.) 

COST — expense, charge, price, value. 

COVETOUSNESS — avarice, cupidity, extortion. 
(Generosity, liberality.) 

COWARDICE — poltroonery, faint - heartedness. 
(Courage, boldness, intrepidity.) 

CE-iME — offence, trespass, misdemeanor, felony, 
transgression. (Innocence, guiltlessness.) 

CRIMINAL — culprit, felon, convict. (Paragon.) 

CROOKED — twisted, distorted, bent, awry, wry, 
askew, deformed. (Straight, upright.) 

CRUEL — brutal, ferocious, barbarous, blood-thirsty, 
fiendish. (Kind, benignant, benevolent.) 

CULTIVATION— tillage, culture. (Waste.) 

CURSORY — fugitive, hurried, perfunctory. (Per- 
manent, thorough. ) 

CUSTOM — habit, wont, usage, fashion, practice. 

DANGER — peril, hazard, jeopardy. (Safety.) 

DARK — obscure, sombrous, opaque, unintelligible. 
(Light, luminous, shining, clear, lucid.) 

DEADLY — mortal, fatal, destructive, lethal. 

DEAR — costly, precious, high-priced, beloved, dar- 
ling, pet, favorite. (Cheap, disliked, despised. ) 

DEATH — decease, demise, dissolution. ( Birth, life. ) 

DECAY, n. — decline, consumption, atrophy. (De- 
velopment, growth.) 

DECEIVE — cheat, defraud, cozen, overreach, gull, 
dupe, swindle, victimize. (Truthfulness.) 

DECEIT, n. — imposition, fraud, deception. (Vera- 
city, honesty. ) 

DECIDE — determine, resolve, conclude, settle, ad- 
judicate, arbitrate, terminate. (Hesitate, dilly- 
dally, shuffle.) 

DECIPHER — interpret, explain, construe, unravel. 
(Mistake, confound.) 

DECISION — determination, conclusion, firmness. 
(Wavering, hesitancy.) 

DECLAMATION — harangue, oration, recitation, 
tirade, speech. 

DECLARATION — affirmation, assertion. (Denial.) 

DECREASE — diminish, lessen, reduce, wane, de- 
cline. (Increase, grow, enlarge.) 

DEDICATE — consecrate, devote, offer, apportion. 

DEED — act, transaction, exploit, document. 

DEEM — judge, estimate, consider, esteem, suppose. 

DEEP —profound, abtruse, hidden, extraordinarily 
yise. (Shallow, superficial.) 



DEFACE — mar, spoil, injure, disfigure. (Beautify.) 

DEFAULT — shortcoming, deficiency, defect, im- 
perfection. (Sufficiency, satisfaction.) 

DEFENCE — fortification, bulwark, vindication, jus- 
tification, apology. 

DEFEND — shield, vindicate. (Assault, accuse.) 

DEFICIENT— incomplete, lacking. (Entire, per- 
fect, whole.) 

DEFILE — soil, smutch, besmear, begrime. 

DEFINED — limit, bound. (Enlarge, expand.) 

DEFRAY — pay, settle, liquidate, satisfy, clear. 

DEGREE — grade, extent, measure, ratio, standard. 

DELIBERATE, a. — circumspect, wary, cautious. 
(Heedless, thoughtless.) 

DELICACY — nicety, dainty, tit-bit, taste, refine- 
ment, modesty. (Grossness, coarseness, vulgarity, 
indecorum. ) 

DELICATE— dainty, refined. (Coarse, beastly.) 

DELICIOUS — savory, palatable, luscious, charm- 
ing, delightful. (Offensive, nasty, odious, shock- 
ing, nauseous.) 

DELIGHT— gratification, felicity. (Mortification, 
vexation. ) 

DELIVER — transfer, consign, utter, liberate, de- 
clare. (Keep, retain, restrain, check, bridle.) 

DEMONSTRATE— -prove, show, manifest. (Mystify, 
obscure. ) 

DEPART — quit, vacate, retire, withdraw, remove. 

DEPRIVE — strip, bereave, despoil. (Invest, equip.) 

DEPUTE — commission, delegate, accredit, entrust. 

DERISION — ridicule, scoffing, mockery, raillery, 
chaff, badinage. (Awe, dread, reverence.) 

DERIVATION — origin, source, spring, emanation, 
etymology. 

DESCRIBE — delineate, portray, style, specify, 
characterize. 

DESECRATE— profane, blaspheme, revile. (Con- 
secrate, sanctify.) 

DESERVE— merit, be entitled to, earn, justify. 

DESIGN, n. — delineation, illustration, sketch, plan, 
drawing, portraiture, draught, projection, scheme, 
proposal, outline. 

DESIRABLE— eligible, suitable, acceptable. (Unfit, 
objectionable. ) 

DESIRE, n. — wish, longing, hankering, appetite. 

DESOLATE, a. — lonely, solitary, bereaved, forlorn, 
forsaken, deserted, bleak, dreary. (Befriended, 
social, festive.) 

DESPERATE— frenzied, frantic, furious. (Calm, 
composed, moderate.) 

DESTINY — fatality, doom, predestination, decree, 
fate. ( Casualty, accident, contingency, chance. ) 

DESTRUCTIVE— mischievous, disastrous, deleteri- 
(Creative, beneficial.) 

DESUETUDE— disuse, discontinuance. (Use, habit, 
practice.) 

DESULTORY — immethodical, disconnected, ramb- 
ling, discontinuous, interrupted, fitful, inter- 
mittent. (Continuous, consecutive, constant.) 

DETAIL, n. — particular, item, count, specialty, 
individuality. 



Ofi 



SYNONYMS AND A.NTONYMS. 



DETAIL, v.— particularize, enumerate, specifv. 
(Generalize.) 

DETER — discourage, dissuade. (Encourage, incite.) 

DETRIMENT — damage, loss. (Benefit, improve- 
ment, betterment.) 

DEVELOP— unfold, expand, increase. (Extirpate.) 

DEVOID — wanting, destitute, bereft, denuded, bare, 
emptied, void. (Provided, supplied, furnished. ) 

DEVOTED — destined, consecrated, sworn to. 

DICTATE — enjoin, order, prescribe, mark out. 

DICTATORIAL— authoritative, imperative, over- 
bearing, imperious, arbitrary, domineering. 

DIE — expire, perish, depart this life, cease. 

DIET — food, victuals, nourishment, aliment, board, 
sustenance, fare, viands, meal, repast, menu. 

DIFFER — vary, diverge, disagree, bicker, nag, 
split. (Accord, harmonize.) 

DIFFERENT— various, diverse, unlike. (Identical.) 

DIFFICULT — hard, tough, laborious, arduous, for- 
midable. (Easy, facile, manageable, pliant.) 

DIFFUSE — discursive, digressive, diluted. (Con- 
densed, concise, terse. ) 

DIGNIFY — elevate, exalt, ennoble, honor, advance, 
promote. (Degrade, disgrace, demean, vulgarize.) 

DILATE — widen, extend, enlarge, expand, descant, 
expatiate. (Contract, narrow, compress, reduce.) 

DILATORY — slow, tardy, slow-paced, procrastina- 
ting, lagging, dawdling. (Prompt, peremptory, 
quick, instant. ) 

DIIvIGENCE — zeal, ardor, assiduity. (Indolence.) 

DIMINISH — lessen, reduce, curtail, retrench, bate 
abate, shorten, contract. (Increase, augment, 
aggrandize, enlarge.) 

DISABILITY— incapacity, unfitness. (Power. ) 

DISCERN — descry, perceive, distinguish, espy, scan, 
recognize, understand, discriminate. (Ignore.) 

DISCIPLINE— order, training, drill, schooling.) 
(Laxity, disorder, confusion, anarchy.) 

DISCOVER — detect, find, unveil, reveal, open, ex- 
pose, publish, disclose. (Cover, conceal, hide.) 

DISCREDITABLE — disreputable, reprehensible, 
blameworthy, shamefu 1 ., scandalous, flagrant. 
(Exemplary, laudable, commendable.) 

DISCREET — prudent, politic, cautious, wary, 
guarded, judicious. (Reckless, heedless, rash, 
unadvised, foolhardy, precipitate.) 

DISCREPANCY — disagreement, discordance, incon- 
gruity, disparity, unfitness, clash, jar. (Concord, 
unison, harmony, congruity. ) 

DISCRIMINATION — distinction, differentiation, 
discernment, appreciation, acuteness, judgment, 
tact, nicety. (Confusion.) 

DISEASE — illness, sickness, ailment, indisposition, 
complaint, malady, disorder. (Health, sanity, 
soundness, robustness. ) 

DISGRACE, n. — stigma, reproach, brand, dishonor, 
shame, scandal, odium, infamy. (Honor.) 

DISGUST — distate, loathing, nausea, aversion, re- 
vulsion, abhorrence. (Predilection, part'"Uty, in- 
clination, bias.) 



DISHONEST— fraudulent, unfair, tricky, unjust 
(Straightforward, open, sincere, honest, fair, right 
just impartial. ) 

DISMAY, v. — alarm, startle, scare, frighten, affright 
terrify, astound, appal, daunt. (Assure, cheer.) 

DISMAY, n. — terror, dread, fear, fright. (Courage." 

DISMISS — send off, discharge, disband. (Instal 
retain, keep. ) 

DISPEL — scatter, disperse, dissipate, drive off 
chase. (Collect, rally, summon, gather.) 

DISPLAY, v. — exhibit, show, parade. (Conceal.) 

DISPOSE — arrange, place, order, marshal, rank 
group, assort, distribute, co-ordinate, collocate 
( Derange, embroil, jumble, muddle, huddle. ) 

DISPUTE, v. — discuss, debate, wrangle, controvert, 
contend. (Homologate, acquiesce in, assent to.) 

DISPUTE, n. — argument, controversy, contention, 
polemic. (Homologation, acquiesence. ) 

DISTINCT— separate, detached. (Joined, involved.) 

DISTINGUISH— perceive, separate. ( Confound. ) 

DISTINGUISHED— famous, noted, marked, emi 
nent, celebrated, illustrious. (Obscure, mean.) 

DISTRACT — divert, disconcert, perplex, bewilder, 
fluster, dazzle. (Observe, study, note, mark.) 

DISTRIBUTE — disperse, disseminate, dispense, re- 
tail, apportion, consign, dole out. (Accumulate.) 

DISTURB — derange, displace, unsettle, trouble, vex, 
wor^, annoy. (Compose, pacify, quiet, soothe.) 

DIVIDE — disjoin, part, separate, sunder, sever, 
cleave, split, rend, partition, distribute. (Con- 
stitute, unite.) 

DIVINE, a.— God-like, holy, heavenly. (Devilish.) 

DIVINE, n. — clergyman, churchman, priest, pastor, 
shepherd, parson, minister. (Layman.) 

DO — effect, make, accomplish, transact, act. 

DOCILE — teachable, willing. (Refractory, stub* 
born, obstinate.) 

DOCTRINE — teaching, lore, tenet, dogma, articles 
of- faith, creed. (Ignorance, superstition.) 

DOLEFUL — woeful, dismal. (Joyous, merry.} 

DOOM, n, — sentence, fate, lot, destiny, decree. 

DOUBT — uncertainty, skepticism, hesitation. (Cer- 
tainty, faith.) 

DRAW — pull, attract, inhale, sketch, delineate. 

DREAD, n. — fear, horror, alarm, terror, dismay, 
apprehension. ( Confidence, fearlessness. ) 

DREADFUL — fearful, alarming, formidable, por- 
tentous, direful, terrible, horrid, awful. (Mild, 
winsome, gentle.) 

DRESS, n. — clothing, raiment, attire, apparel 
clothes, trousseau. (Nudity, nakedness.) 

DRIFT — tendency, direction, course, bearing, tenor 

DROLL — funny, laughable, grotesque, farcical, ode 
(Dull, serious, solemn, grave.) 

DRY, a. — arid, parched, bald, flat, dull. (Aqueous 
green, fresh, juicy, interesting. ) 

DUE — owing, indebted, jus M fair, proper. 

DULL — heavy, sad, commonplace, gloomy, stupia 
(Bright, gay, brilliant.) 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



97 



DUNCE — oiocKhead, Ignoramus, simpleton, donkey,* 
ninny, dolt, booby, goose, dullard, numskull, dun- 
derpate, clodhopper. (Sage, genius, man of 
talent, wit.) 

DURABLE — abiding, lasting. ( Evanescent. ) 

DWELL— stay, abide, sojourn, remain, tarry, stop. 
(Shift, wander, remove, tramp. ) 

DWINDLE — pine, waste, shrink, shrivel, diminish. 

EAGER — keen, desirous, craving, ardent, impatient, 
intent, impetuous. (Loth, reluctant.) 

EARN — gain, win, acquire. (Lose, miss, forfeit.) 

EARNEST, a.— serious, resolved. (Trifling, giddy, 
irresolute, fickle.) 

EARNEST, n. — pledge, gage, deposit, caution. 

EASE, n. — content, rest, satisfaction, comfort, re- 
pose. (Worry, bother, friction, agitation, turmoil.) 

EASE, v. — calm, console, appease, assuage, allay, 
mitigate. (Worry, fret, alarm, gall, harass.) 

EASY — light, comfortable, unconstrained. (Hard, 
difficult, embarrassed, constrained.) 

ECCENTRIC — wandering, irregular, peculiar, odd, 
unwonted, extraordinary, queer, nondescript. 
(Orderly, customary.) 

ECONOMICAL— frugal, thrifty, provident. (Squan- 
dering, wasteful.) 

EDGE — verge, brink, brim, rim, skirt, hem. 

EFFECT, v. — produce, bring about, execute. 

EFFECTIVE— efficient, operative, powerful, effi- 
cacious, competent. (Impotent, incapable, in- 
competent, inefficient.) 

EFFICACY — efficiency, virtue, competence, agency, 
i nstrumentality . 

ELIMINATE — expel, weed, thin, decimate, exclude, 
bar, reject, repudiate, winnow, eject, cast out. 
(Include, comprehend, incorporate, embrace.) 

ELOQUENCE — oratory, rhetoric, declamation, fa- 
cundity, grandiloquence, fluency. (Mumbling, 
stammering. ) 

ELUCIDATE — clear up, unfold, simplify, explain, 
decipher, unravel, disentangle. (Darken, obscure. ) 

ELUDE — escape, avoid, shun, slip, disappear, shirk. 

EMBARRASS — perplex, entangle, involve, impede. 
(Relieve, unravel.) 

EMBELLISH— adorn, decorate, beautify. (Tar- 
nish, disfigure.) 

EMBOLDEN — animate, encourage, cheer, instigate, 
impel, urge, stimulate. (Discourage, dispirit, 
dampen, depress.) 

EMINENT — exalted, loft^, prominent, renowned, 
distinguished, famous, glorious, illustrious. (Base, 
obscure, low, unknown. ) 

EMIT — send out, despatch, spirt, publish, promul- 
gate, edit. (Reserve, conceal, hi .e.) 

EMOTION — feeling, sensation, pa.nos, nerve, ardor, 
agitation, excitement. (Apathy, frigidity, phlegm, 
nonchalance. ) 

EMPLOY — occupy, engage, utilize, exercise, turn 
to account, exploit, make use of. 

ENCOMPASS — encircle, surround, gird, beset. 

ENCOUNTER, v.— -meet, run against, clash. 
7— to 



ENCOUNTER, ».— attack, conflict, assault, onset, 
engagement. 

END, n. — object, aim, result, purpose, conclusion, 
upshot, termination. (Beginning, motive.) 

ENDEAVOR, v. — attempt, try, essay, strive. 

ENDURANCE— stay, stability, stamina, fortitude. 

ENDURE — sustain, bear, brook, undergo. 

ENEMY — foe, antagonist, adversary, opponent. 
(Friend, ally.) 

ENERGETIC — active, vigorous, sinewy, nervous, 
forcible. (Lazy, languid, inert, flabby, flaccid, 
slack, effete.) 

ENGAGE — occupy, busy, entice, captivate. 

ENGROSS — monopolize, absorb, take up. 

ENGULF — swallow up, drown, submerge, bury. 

ENJOIN — order, command, decree, ordain, direct, 
appoint, prescribe, bind, impose, stipulate. 

ENJOYMENT— pleasure, relish, zest. (Privation, 
grief, misery.) 

ENLARGE — expand, widen, augment, broaden, in- 
crease, extend. (Diminish, narrow, straighten.) 

ENLIGHTEN— illumine, instruct. (Darken, be- 
fog, mystify.) 

ENLIVEN — cheer, animate, exhilarate, brighten, 
incite, inspire. (Sadden, deaden, mortify. ) 

ENMITY — hostility, hatred, antipathy, aversion, 
detestation. (Love, fondness, predilection.) 

ENORMOUS — huge, immense, vast, stupendous 
monstrous, gigantic, colossal, elephantine. (Tiny 
little, minute, puny, petty, diminutive, infinites- 
imal, dwarfish.) 

ENOUGH — sufficient, adequate. (Short, scrimp, 
insufficient. ) 

ENRAGED — infuriated, wrathful, wroth, rabid, mad, 
raging. (Pacified, calmed, lulled, assuaged ) 

ENRAPTURE — captivate, fascinate, enchant, be- 
witch, ravish, transport, entrance. (Irritate, gall, 
shock, repel.) 

ENROLL — enlist, register, enter, record. 

ENTERPRISE— undertaking, endeavor, adven 
ture, pursuit. 

ENTHUSIASM — ardor, zeal, glow, unction, fervor. 
(Coolness, indifference, apathy, nonchalance.) 

ENTHUSIAST— visionary, fanatic, devotee, zealot. 

EQUAL — even, level, co-ordinate, balanced, alike, 
equable, equitable. (Unequal, disproportionate ) 

ERADICATE— root out, extirpate. (Cherish. ) 

ERRONEOUS — fallacious, inaccurate, incorrect, 
untrue, false, inexact. (Accurate, just, right. ) 

ERROR — mistake, blunder, slip, delusion, fallacy, 
deception. (Truth, fact, verity, gospel, veracity, j 

ESPECIALLY— chiefly, particularly, peculiarly. 

ESSAY — endeavor, experiment, trial, attempt, ven- 
ture, dissertation, treatise, disquisition, tract. i 

ESTABLISH— settle, fix, set, plant, pitch, lay down, 
confirm, authenticate, substantiate, verify. 

ESTEEM, n. — value, appreciation, honor, regard. 
(Contempt, depreciation, disparagement.) 

ESTIMATE, V. — value, assess, rate, appraise, gauge. 

ETERNAL — everlasting, perpetual, endless, immor 
tal, infinite. (Finite, transitory, temporary.) 



08 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



EVADE— avoid, shun, elude, dodge, parry. 

EVEN— plain, flat, level, smooth. (Uneven, rough, 
indented, protuberant.) 

EVENT — occurrence, incident, affair, transaction, 

contingency. 
EVIL — ill, harm, mischief, disaster, bane, calamity, 

catastrophe. (Good, benefit, advantage, boon.) 
EXACT, a. — precise, literal, particular, correct. 
EXAMINATION— investigation, inquiry, search, 

research, scrutiny, exploration, test, sitting, trial. 
EXCEED — excel, outdo, transcend, surpass. 
EXCEPTIONAL — uncommon, unusual, rare, extra- 
ordinary. (General, ordinary, regular, normal. ) 
EXCITE — urge, rouse, stir, awaken. (Assuage, 

calm, still, tranquilize. ) 
EXCURSION — lour, trip, expedition, ramble. 
EXEMPT — free, absolved, cleared, discharged. 

(Implicated, included, bound, obliged.) 
EXERCISE, n. — operation, practice, office, action, 

performance. (Stagnation, rest, stoppage.) 
EXHAUSTIVE— complete, thorough, out-and-out. 
EXIGENCY — predicament, emergency, crisis, push, 

pass, turning point, conjecture. 
EXPRESS, v.— utter, tell, declare, signify. 
EXTRAVAGANT — excessive, prodigal, profuse, 

wasteful, lavish, thriftless. (Penurious, stingy.) 

FABLE — parable, tale, myth, romance, (Truth, 

fact, history, event, deed. ) 
FACE — aspect, visage, countenance. 
FACETIOUS— pleasant, j ocular. ( Serious. ) 
FACTOR — manager, agent, officer. 
FAIL — fall short, be- deficient. (Accomplish.) 
FAINT— feeble, languid. ( Forcible. ) 
FAIR — clear. /.Stormy. ) 

FAIR — equitable, honest, reasonable. (Unfair.) 
FAITH— creed. (Unbelief, infidelity.) 
FAITHFUL— true, loyal, constant. (Faithless.) 
FAITHLESS— perfidious, treacherous. ( Faithful. ) 
FALL — drop, droop, sink, tumble. (Rise.) 
FAME — renown, reputation. 
FAMOUS— celebrated, renowned. (Obscure.) 
FANCIFUL — capricious, fsmtastical, whimsical. 
FANCY — imagination. 

FAST — rapid, quick, fleet, expeditious. (Slow.) 
FATIGUE — weariness, lassitude. (Vigor.) 
FEAR — timidity, timorousness. (Bravery.) 
FEELING — sensation, sense. 
FEELING — sensibility. (Insensibility. ) 
FEROCIOUS— fierce, savage, wild. (Mild.) 
FERTILE— fruitful, prolific, plenteous. (Sterile.) 
FICTION— falsehood, fabrication. (Fact.) 

FIGURE — allegory, emblem, metaphor, symbol, 
picture, type. 

FIND — descry, discover, espy. (Lose, overlook. ^ 

FINE, a. — delicate, nice. (Coarse.) 

FINE, n. — forfeit, forfeiture, mulct, penalty. 

tflStf?— glow, heat, warmth. 



FIRM — constant, solid, steadfast, fixed. Weak.) 

FIRST — foremost, chief, earliest. (Last.} 

FIT — accommodate, adapt, adjust, suit. 

FIX — determine, establish, settle, limit 

FLAME — blaze, flare, flash, glare. 

FLAT— level, even. 

FLEXIBLE— pliant, pliable, ductile. (Inflexible.) 

FLOURISH— prosper, thrive. (Decay.) 

FLUCTUATING— wavering, hesitating, oscillating, 
vacillating, change. (Firm, steadfast, decided.) 

FLUENT — flowing, glib, voluble, unembarrassed, 
ready. (Hesitating.) 

FOLKS — persons, people, individuals. 

FOLLOW — succeed, ensue, imitate, copy, pursue. 

FOLLOWER — partisan, disciple, adherent, retainer! 
pursuer, successor. 

FOLLY — silliness, foolishness, imbecility, weak- 
ness. (Wisdom.) 

FOND — enamored, attached, affectionate. (Distant. ) 

FONDNESS — affection, attachment, kindness, love. 
(Aversion.) 

FOOLHARDY — venturesome, incautious, hasty, ad- 
venturous, rash. (Cautious.) 

FOOLISH — simple, silly, irrational, brainless, im- 
becile, crazy, absurd, preposterous, ridiculous, 
nonsensical. (Wise, discreet.) 

FOP — dandy, dude, beau, coxcomb, puppy, jacka- 
napes. (Gentlemen.) 

FORBEAR — abstain, refrain, withhold. 

FORCE, n. — strength, vigor, dint, might, energy, 
power, violence, army, host. 

FORCE, v.— compel. (Persuade.) 

FORECAST— forethought, foresight, premeditation 
prognosticatioru 

FOREGO — quit, relinquish, let go, waive. 

FOREGOING — antecedent, anterior, preceding, pre 
vious, prior, former. 

FORERUNNER— herald, harbinger, precursor. 

FORESIGHT— forethought, forecast, premeditation 

FORGE — coin, invent, frame, feign, fabricate. 

FORGIVE — pardon, remit, absolve, acquit, excuse 

FORLORN— forsaken, abandoned, deserted, deso 
late, lone, lonesome. 

FORM, n. — ceremony, solemnity, observance, rite, 
figure, shape, conformation, fashion, appearance 
representation, semblance. 
FORM, v. — make, create, produce, constitute, ar- 
range, fashion, mould, shape. 

FORMAL — ceremonious, precise, exact, stiff, m» 
thodical, affected. (Informal, natural.) 

FORMER — antecedent, anterior, previous, prio: 
preceding, foregoing. 

FORSAKEN — abandoned, forlorn, deserted, deso 

late, lone, lonesome. 
FORTHWITH— immediately, directly, instantly 

instantaneously. (Anon. ) 

FORTITUDE— endurance, resolution, fearlessness, 
dauntlessness. ( Weakness. ) 

FORTUNATE — lucky, happy, auspicious, succesaftl. 
prosperous. (Unfortunate.) 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



99 



FORTUNE — chance, fate, luck, doom, possession, 
destiny, property, riches. 

FOSTER— cherish, nurse, tend, harbor. (Neglect.) 

FOUL — impure, nasty, filthy, dirty, unclean, defiled. 
(Pure, clean.) 

FRACTIOUS — cross, captious, petulent, splenetic, 
touch}', testy, peevish, fretful. (Tractable. ) 

FRAGILE— brittle, frail, delicate, feeble. (Strong.) 

FRAGMENTS — pieces, scraps, leavings, remnants, 
chips, remains. 

FRAILTY — weakness, failing, foible, imperfection, 
fault, blemish. (Strength.) 

FRAME, v. — construct, invent, coin, fabricate, feign, 
forge, mold, make, compose. 

FRANCHISE — right, exemption, immunity, privi- 
lege, freedom, suffrage. 

FRANK — artless, candid, sincere, free, easy, open, 
familiar, ingenious, plain. (Tricky, insincere.) 

FRANTIC — distracted, furious, raving, frenzied, 
mad. (Ouiet, subdued. ) 

FRAUD — deceit, deception, duplicity, guila, cheat, 
imposition. (Honesty.) 

FREAK — fancy, humor, vagary, whim, caprice, 
crochet (Purpose, resolution.) 

FREE, 1. — liberal, generous, bountiful, boanveous, 
munificent, frank, artless, candid, familiar, open, 
independent, uuconfined, unreserved, unrestricted, 
exempt, clear, loose, easy, careless. (Slavish, 
stingy, artful, costly.) 

FREE, v. — release, set free, deliver, rescue, liberate, 
enfranchise, affranchise, emancipate, exempt. 
(Enslave, bind.) 

FREEDOM — liberty, independence, unrestraint, 
familiarity, franchise, exemption. (Slavery.) 

FREQUENT— often, common, general. (Rare.) 

FRET — gall, chafe, agitate, irritate, vex. 

FRIENDLY — amicable, social, sociable. (Distant, 
reserved, cool. ) 

FRIGHTFUL— fearful, dreadful, dire, direful, awful, 
terrific, horrible, horrid. 

FRIVOLOUS— trifling, trivial, petty. (Serious.) 

FRUGAL — provident, economical, saving. (Waste- 
ful, extravagant.) 

FRUITFUL — fertile, prolific, productive, abundant, 
plentiful, plenteous. (Barren, sterile.) 

FRUITLESS — vain, useless, idle, bootless, unavail- 
ing, without avail. 

FRUSTRATE— defeat, foil, balk, disappoint. 

FULFILL — accomplish, effect, complete. 

FULLY — completely, abundantly, perfectly. 

FULSOME — coarse, gross, sickening, offensive, 
rank. (Moderate. ) 

CURIOUS — violent, boisterous, vehement, dashing, 
sweeping, rolling, impetuous, frantic, distracted, 
stormy, angry, raging, fierce. (Calm. ) 

FUTILE— trifling, trivial, frivolus. (Effective.) 

GAIN, n. — profit, emolument, advantage, benefit, 

winnings, earnings. (Loss.) 
SAIN, v. — get, acquire, obtain, attain, procure, 

earn, win, achieve, reap, realize, reach. (Lose ) 



GALLANT — brave, bold, courageous, gay, showy 
fine, intrepid, fearless, heroic. 

GALLING — chafing, irritating. ( Soothing. ) 

GAME — play, pastime, diversion, amusement, 

GANG — band, horde, company, troop, crew. 

GAP — breach, chasm, hollow, cavity, cleft, device, 
rift, chink. 

GARNISH — embellish, adorn, beautify, decorate. 

GATHER — pick, cull, assemble, muster, infer, col< 
lect. (Scatter.) 

GAUDY — showy, flasny, tawdry, gay, glittering, be- 
spangled. (Sombre.) 

GAUNT — emaciated, scraggy, skinny, meagre, lank, 
attenuated, spare, lean, thin. (Well-fed.) 

GAY — cheerful, merry, lively, jolly, sprightly, 
blithe. (Solemn.) 

GENERATE— form, make, beget, produce. 

GENERATION— formation, race, breed, stock, 
kind, age, era. 

GENEROUS — beneficent, noble, honorable, bounti 
ful, li' eral, free. (Niggardly.) 

GENIAL — cordial, hearty, festive. (Distant, cold.) 

GENIUS — intellect, invention, talent, taste, nature, 
character, adept. 

GENTEEL — refined, polished, fashionable, polite, 
well-bred. (Boorish. ) 

GENTLE — placid, mild, bland, meek, tame, docile. 
(Rough, uncouth,) 

GENUINE— real, true, unaflected. (False.) 

GESTURE— attitude, action, posture. 

GET — obtain, earn, gain, attain, procure, achieve. 

GHASTLY — pallid, wan, hideous, grim, shocking. 

GHOST — spectre, sprite, apparition, phantom. 

GIBE — scoff, sneer, flout, jeer, mock, taunt, deride. 

GIDDY— unsteady, thoughtless. (Steady.) 

GIFT — donation, benefaction, grant, alms, gratuity, 
boon, present, faculty, talent. (Purchase.) 

GIGANTIC — colossal, huge, enormous, prodigious, 
vast, immense. (Diminutive.) 

GIVE — grant, bestow, confer, yield, impart. 

GLAD — pleased, cheerful, joyful, gladsome, cheer- 
ing, gratified. (Sad.) 

GLEAM — glimmer, glance, glitter, shine, flash. 

GLEE — gayety, merriment, mirth, joviality, joy, 
hilarity. (Sorrow.) 

GLIDE — slip, slide, run, roll on. 

GLIMMER, v. — gleam, flicker, glitter. 

GLIMPSE— glance, look, glint. 

GLITTER — gleam, shine, glisten, glister, radiate. 

GLOOM — cloud, darkness, dimness, blackness, dull- 
ness, sadness. (Light, brightness, joy. ) 

GLOOMY — lowering, lurid, dim, dusky, sad, glum, 
(Bright, clear.) 

GLORIFY — magnify, celebrate, adore, exalt. 

GLORIOUS — famous, renowned, distinguished, ex- 
alted, noble. (Infamous.) 

GLORY — honor, fame, renown, splendor, grandeur 
(Infamy.) 

GLUT-~gorge, stuff, cram, cloy, satiate, block up, 



lOO 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



GO — depart, proceed, move, budge, stir. 

GOD— Creator, Lord, Almighty, Jehovah, Omnipo- 
tence, Providence. 

GODLY — righteous, devout, holy, pious, religious. 
GOOD — benefit, weal, advantage, profit. (Evil.) 
GOOD, a. — virtuous, righteous, upright, just, true. 

(Wicked, bad.) 
GORGE, glut, fill, cram, stuff, satiate. 
GORGEOUS— superb, grand, magnificent, splendid. 

(Plain, simple.) 
GOVERN — rule, direct, manage, command. 
GOVERNMENT— rule, state, control, sway. 
GRACEFUL — becoming, comely, elegant, beautiful. 

(Awkward.) 
GRACIOUS— merciful, kindly, beneficent. 
GRADUAL — slow, progressive. (Sudden.) 
GRAND — majestic, stately, dignified, lofty, elevated, 

exalted, splendid, gorgeous, superb, magnificent, 

sublime, pompous. (Shabby.) 
GRANT — bestow, impart, give, yield, cede, allow, 

confer, invest. 
GRANT — gift, boon, donation, 

GRAPHIC — forcible, telling, picturesque, pictorial. 
GRASP — catch, seize, gripe, clasp, grapple. 
GRATEFUL — agreeable, pleasing, welcome, thank- 
ful. (Harsh.) 
GRATIFICATION— enjoyment, pleasure, delight, 

reward. ( Disappointment. ) 
GRAVE, a. — serious, sedate, solemn, sober, pressing, 

heavy. ( Giddy. ) 
GRAVE, n. — tomb, sepulchre, vault. 
GREAT — big, huge, large, majestic, vast, grand, 

noble, august. (Small.) 
GREEDINESS— avidity, eagerness. (Generosity.) 
GRIEF — affliction, sorrow, trial, tribulation. (Joy.) 
GRIEVE — mourn, lament, sorrow, pain, wound, 

hurt, bewail. (Rejoice.) 
GRIEVOUS — painful, afflicting, heavy, unhappy. 
GKIND — crush, oppress, grate, harass, afflict. 
GRISLY — terrible, hideous, grim, ghastly, dreadful. 

( Pleasing. ) 

GROSS — coarse, outrageous, unseemly, shameful, 
indelicate. (Delicate.) 

GROUP — assembly, cluster, collection, clump, order. 

GROVEL — crawl, cringe, fawn, sneak. 

GROW — increase, vegetate, expand, advance. (De- 
cay, diminution,) 

GROWL — grumble, snarl, murmur, complain. 
GRUDGE — malice, rancor, spite, pique, hatred. 
rjRUFF — rough, rugged, blunt, rude, harsh, surly, 

bearish. (Pleasant.) 
GUILE— deceit, fraud. (Candor.) 
GUILTL-ooS — harmless, innocent. 
GUILTY — culpable, sinful, criminaL 

HABIT — custom, practice. 

HAIL — accost, address, greet, salute, welcome. 

HAPPINESS— beatitude, blessedness, bliss, felicity. 
(Ualiappinese.) 



HARBOR— haven, port. 

HARD— firm, solid. (Soft.) 

HARD— arduous, difficult. (Easy.) 

HARM — injury, hurt, wrong, infliction, \ .benefit. 

HARMLESS — safe, innocuous, innocent. (Hurtful, j 

HARSH — rough, rigorous, severe, gruff. (Gentle.) 

HASTEN — accelerate, dispatch, expedite. (Delay.) 

HASTY— hurried, ill-advised. (Deliberate.) 

HATEFUL — odious, detestable. (Lovable. ) 

HATRED — enmity, ill-will, rancor. (Friendship,) 

HAUGHTINESS— arrogance , pride. ( Modesty. ) 

HAUGHTY — arrogant, disdainful, supercilious 

HAZARD— risk, venture. 

HEALTHY— salubrious, salutary. (Unhealthy.) 

HEAP — accumulate, amass, pile. 

HEARTY — cordial, sincere, warm. (Insincere.) 

HEAVY — burdensome, ponderous. (Light.) 

HEED— care, attention. 

HEIGHTEN— enhance, exalt, elevate, raise. 

HEINOUS— atrocious, flagrant. (Venial.) 

HELP — aid, assist, relieve, succor. (Hinder.) 

HERETIC— sectary, sectarian, schismatic, dissented 

non-conformist. 
HESITATE— falter, stammer, stutter. 
HIDEOUS— grim, ghastly, grisly. (Beautiful 1 
HIGH— lofty, tall, elevated. (Deep.) 
HINDER — impede, obstruct, prevent, (Help. ) 
HINT — allude, refer, suggest, intimate, insinuate, 
HOLD — detain, keep, retain. 
HOLINESS — sanctity, piety, sacredness. 
HOLY — devout, pious, religious. 
HOMELY — plain, ugly, coarse. (Beautiful. ) 
HONESTY— integrity, probity, uprightness. (D13 

honesty. ) 
HONOR, v. — respect, reverence. (Dishonor.) 
HOPE — confidence, expectation, trust. 
HOPELESS— desperate. 
HOT— ardent, burning, fiery. ( Cold. ) 
HOWEVER — nevertheless, notwithstanding, yet 
HUMBLE — modest, submissive, plain, uiio^tcuU 

tious, simple. (Haughty.) 
HUMBLE — degrade, humiliate, mortify. ( Exalt; 
HUMOR — mood, temper. 
HUNT— seek, chase. 

HURTFUL — noxious, pernicious. (Bsneficia* 
HUSBANDRY— cultivation, tillage. 
HYPOCRITE; — dissembler, imposter, canter. 
HYPOTHESIS— theory, supposition. 

IDEA — thought, imagination. 

IDEAL/ — imaginary, fancied. (Actual.) 

IDLE — indolent, lazy. ( Industrious. / 

IGNOMINIOUS — shameful, scandalous, iufamouSk 

(Honorable.) 
IGNOMINY — shame, disgrace, obloquy, reproach. 
IGNORANT — unlearned, illiterate, uninformed 

uneducated, (Knowing.) 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



101 



iLL, n. — evil v wickedness, misfortune, mischief, 
harm. (Good.) 

ILL, a.— sick, indisposed, diseased. (Well.) 

ILL-TEMPERED— crabbed, sour, acrimonious, 
surly. ( Good-natured. ) 

ILL-WILL — enmity, antipathy. (Good-will.) 

ILLEGAL — unlawful, illicit, contraband, illegiti- 
mate. (Legal.) 

ILLIMITABLE — boundless, immeasurable, infinite. 

ILLITERATE— unlettered, unlearned, untaught, 
uninstructed. (Learned, educated.) 

ILLUSION — fallacy, deception, phantasm. 

ILLUSORY — imaginary, chimerical. (Real. ) 

ILLUSTRATE— explain, elucidate, clear. 

ILLUSTRIOUS — celebrated, noble, eminent, famous, 
renowned. (Obscure.) 

IMAGE — likeness, picture, representation, effigy. 

IMAGINARY— ideal, fanciful, illusory. (Real.) 

IMAGINE — conceive, fancy, apprehend, think. 

IMBECILITY— silliness, senility, dotage. 

IMITATE — copy, ape, mimic, mock, counterfeit 

IMMACULATE— unspotted, spotless, unsullied, 
stainless. (Soiled.) 

IMMEDIATE — pressing, instant, next, proximate. 

IMMEDIATELY— instantly, forthwith, directly 

IMMENSE — vast, enormous, huge, prodigious. 

IMMUNITY — privilege, prerogative, exemption. 

IMPAIR — injure, diminish, decrease. 

IMPART — reveal, divulge, disclose, discover, afford. 

IMPARTIAL— just, equitable, unbiased. (Partial.) 

IMPASSIONED — glowing, burning, fiery, intense. 

IMPEACH — accuse, charge, arraign, censure. 

IMPEDE— hinder, retard, obstruct. (Help.) 

IMPEDIMENT— obstruction, hindrance, obstacle, 
barrier. (Aid. ) 

IMPEL — animate, induce, incite, instigate, em- 
bolden. (Retard.) 

IMPENDING — imminent, threatening. 

IMPERATIVE— commanding, authoritative. 

IMPERFECT: ION— fault, blemish, defect, vice. 

IMPERIL — endanger, hazard, jeopardize. 

IMPERIOUS — commanding, dictatorial, imperative, 
authoritative, lordly, overbearing, domineering. 

•IMPERTINENT— intrusive, meddling, officious, 
rude, saucy, impudent, insolent. 

IMPETUOUS — violent, boisterous, furious, vehe- 
ment. (Calm.) 

IMPIOUS — profane, irreligious. (Reverent.) 

IMPLICATE — involve, entangle, embarrass. 

'MPLY — involve, comprise, infold, import, denote. 

IMPORTANCE — signification, significance, avail, 
consequence, weight, gravity, moment. 

.IMPOSING — impressive, striking, majestic, august, 
noble, grand. (Insignificant.) 

IMPOTENCE — weakness, incapacity, infirmity, 
fraility, feebleness. (Power.) 

IMPOTENT— weak, feeble, helpless, enfeebled, 
nerveless, infirm. (Strong.) 



IMPRESSrVE— stirring, forcible, exciting, moving 

IMPRISON — incarcerated, shut up, immure, con- 
fine. (Liberate.) 

IMPRISONMENT— captivity, durance. 
IMPROVE — amend, better, mend, reform, rectify, 

ameliorate, apply, use, employ. (Deteriorate.) 
IMPROVIDENT— careless, incautious, imprudent, 

prodigal, wasteful, reckless, rash. (Thrifty.*) 

IMPUDENCE — assurance, impertinence, confidence 

insolence, rudeness. 
IMPUDENT — saucy, brazen, bold, impertinent. 

forward, rude, insolent, immodest, shameless. 
IMPULSE — incentive, incitement, instigation. 
IMPULSIVE— rash, hasty, forcible. (Deliberate.) 
IMPUTATION — blame, censure, reproach, charge. 
INADVERTENCY— error, oversight, blunder, in- 
attention, carelessness, negligence. 
INCENTIVE — motive, inducement, impulse. 
INCITE — instigate, excite, provoke, stimulate, urge, 

encourage, impel. 
INCLINATION — leaning, slope, disposition, bent, 

tendency, bias, affection, attachment, wish, liking, 

desire. (Aversion.) 
INCLINE, v. — slope, lean, slant, tend, bend, turn, 

bias, dispose. * . 

INCLOSE — surround, shut in, fence in, cover, wrap. 
INCLUDE — comprehend, comprise, contain, take 

in, embrace. 

INCOMMODE — annoy, plague, molest, disturb 
inconvenience, trouble. (Accommodate.) , 

INCOMPETENT— incapable, unable, inadequate. 

INCREASE, v. — extend, enlarge, augment, dilate, 
expand, amplify, raise, enhance, aggravate, mag- 
nify, grow. (Diminish.) 

INCREASE, n. — augmentation, accession, addition, 
enlargement, extension. (Decrease.) 

INCUMBENT— obligatory. 

INDEFINITE — vague, uncertain, unsettled, loose, 
lax. (Definite.) 

INDICATE — point out, show, mark. 

INDIFFERENCE — apathy, carelessness, listless- 
ness, insensibility. (Application, assiduity.) 

INDIGENCE — want, neediness, penury, poverty, 
destitution, privation. (Affluence.) 

INDIGNATION — anger, wrath, ire, resentment. 

INDIGNITY — insul:, affront, outrage opprobrium, 
obloquy, reproach, ignominy. (Honor.) 

INDISCRIMINATE— promiscuous, chance, indis- 
tinct, confused. (Select, chosen.) 

INDISPENSABLE— essential, necessary requisite, 
expedient. (Unnecessary, supernumerary.) 

INDISPUTABLE— undeniable, undoubted, incon- 
testable, indubitable, unquestionable, infallible. 

INDORSE — ratify, confirm, superscribe. 

INDULGE— foster, cherish, fondle. (Deny.) 

INEFFECTUAL— vain, useless unavailing, fruit- 
less, abortive, inoperative. (Effective.) 

INEQUALITY — disparity, disproportion, dissimi 
larity, unevenness. (Equality.) 

INEVITABLE— unavoidable, not to be avoided 



102 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



INFAMOUS— scandalous, shameful, ignominious, 
opprobrious, disgraceful. (Honorable.) 

INFERENCE— deduction, corollary, conclusion. 

INFERNAL— diabolical, fiendish, devilish, hellish. 

INFEST— annoy, plague, harass, disturb. 

INFIRM— week, feeble, enfeebled. (Robust.) 

[NFLAME — anger, irritate, enrage, chafe, incense, 
nettle, aggravate, embitter, exasperate. (Allay.) 

INFLUENCE, v.— bias, sway, prejudice, preposess. 

INFLUENCE, n. — credit, favor, reputation, weight, 
character, authority, sway, ascendency. 

INFRINGE — invade, intrude, contravene, break, 
transgress, violate. 

INGENUOUS — artless, candid, generous, sincere, 
open, frank, plain. (Crafty.) 

INHUMAN — cruel, brutal, savage, barbarous, ruth- 
less, merciless, ferocious. (Humane.) 

INIQUITY — injustice, wrong, grievance. 

INJURE — damage, hurt, deteriorate, wrong, spoil, 
aggrieve, harm, mar, sully. (Benefit.) 

INJURIOUS — hurtful, baneful, pernicious, deleteri- 
ous, noxious, prejudicial, wrongful. (Beneficial.) 

INJUSTICE — wrong, iniquity, grievance. (Right. ) 

INNOCENT — guiltless, sinless, harmless, inoffen- 
sive, innoxious. (Guilty.) 

INNOCUOUS— harmless, safe, innocent. (Hurtful.) 

INORDINATE — intemperate, irregular, disorderly, 
excessive, immoderate. (Moderate. ) 

INQUIRY — investigation, examination, research, 
scrutiny, disquisition, question, interrogation. 

INQUISITIVE — prying, peeping, curious, peering. 

INSANE — deranged, delirous, demented. (Sane.) 

INSANITY — madness, mental aberration, lunacy, 
delirium. (Sanity. ) 

INSINUATE— hint, intimate, suggest, infuse, intro- 
duce, ingratiate. 

LNSIPID — dull, flat, mawkish, tasteless, inanimate, 
vapid, lifeless. (Bright, sparkling.) 

INSOLENT — rude, saucy, impertinent, abusive, pert, 
scurrilous, opprobrious, insulting, offensive. 

INSPIRE — animate, exhilarate, enliven, breathe, 
cheer, inhale. 

INSTABILITY— mutability, fickleness, mutableness, 
wavering. (Stability, firmness.) 

INSTIGATE — stir up, persuade, animate, stimulate, 
incite, urge, encourage. 

INSTIL — implant, inculcate, infuse, insinuate. 

INSTRUCT — inform, teach, educate, enlighten. 

INSTRUMENTAL— conducive, assistant, helping. 

INSUFFICIENCY — incompetency, incapability, 
inadequacy, deficiency, lack. 

INSULT — affront, outrage, indignity. ( Honor. ) 

INSULTING- — insolent, impertinent, abusive, rude. 

INTEGRITY — uprightness, honesty, completeness, 
probity, entirety, entireness, purity. (Dishonesty.) 

INTELLECT — understanding, sense, brains, mind, 
intelligence, ability, talent, genius. (Body.) 

INTELLECTUAL— mental, metaphysical. (Brutal.) 

INTELLIGIBLE— clear, obvious, plain. (Abstruse.) 



INTEMPERATE — immoderate, excessive, drunken 
nimious, inordinate. (Temperate.) 

INTENSE — ardent, earnest, glowing, fervid, burn- 
ing, vehement. 

INTENT — design, purpose, intention, drift, view, 
aim, purport, meaning. 

INTERCOURSE — commerce, connection, intimacy. 

INTERDICT— forbid, prohibit, inhibit, proscribe, 
debar, restrain from. (Allow. ) 

INTERFERE— meddle, intermeddle, interpose. 

INTERMINABLE— endless, interminate, infinite, 
unlimited, illimitable, boundless. (Brief.) 

INTERPOSE — intercede, arbitrate, mediate, inter- 
fere, meddle. 

IMTERPRET— explain, expound, elucidate, unfold. 

INTIMATE — hint, suggest, insinuate, express, tell, 
signify, impart. 

INTIMIDATE — dishearten, alarm, frighten, scare, 
appal, daunt, cow, browbeat. (Encourage.) 

INTOLERABLE— insufferable, unbearable, insup- 
portable, unendurable. 

INTREPID — bold, brave, daring, fearless, daunt- 
less, undaunted, courageous, valorous, valiant, 
heroic, gallant, chivalrous, doughty. (Cowardly, 
faint-hearted.) 

INTRIGUE — plot, cabal, conspiracy, combination, 
artifice, ruse, amour. 

INTRINSIC — real, true, genuine, sterling, native, 
natural. (Extrinsic.) 

INVALIDATE — quash, cancel, overthrow, vacate, 
nullify, annul. 

INVASION — incursion, irruption, inroad, aggres- 
sion, raid, fray. 

INVECTIVE — abuse, reproach, railing, censure- 
sarcasm, satire. 

INVENT — devise, contrive, frame, find out, discover. 

INVESTIGATION— examination, search, inquiry, 
research, scrutiny. 

INVETERATE — confirmed, chronic, malignant. 
(Inchoate.) 

INVIDIOUS — envious, hateful, odious, malignant. 
INVIGORATE — brace, harden, nerve, strengthen, 
fortify. ( Enervate. ) 

INVINCIBLE — unconquerable, impregnable, insur- 
mountable. 

INVISIBLE — unseen, imperceptible, impalpable. 

INVITE — ask, call, bid, request, allure, attract. 

INVOKE — invocate, call upon, appeal, refer, im- 
plore, beseech. 

INVOLVE — implicate, entangle, compromise. 

IRKSOME — wearisome, tiresome, tedious, annoy- 
ing. (Pleasant.) 

IRONY — sarcasm, satire, ridicule, raillery. 

IRRATIONAL— foolish, silly, imbecile, brutish, 
absurd, ridiculous. (Rational.) 

IRREGULAR — eccentric, anomalous, inordinate 
intemperate. (Regular.) 

IRRELIGIOUS — profane, godless, impious, sacri 
legious, desecrating. 

IRREPROACHABLE— blameless, spotless. 
IRRESISTIBLE— resistless, irrepressible. 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



1<K 



IRRESOLUTE — wavering, undetermined, unde- 
cided, vacillating, (Determined.) 

IRRITABLE— excitable, irascible, susceptible, sensi- 
tive. (Calm.) 

IRRITATE — aggravate, worry, embitter, madden. 

ISSUE, v.— emerge, rise, proceed, flow, spring. 

ISSUE, ».— end, upshot, effect, result, offspring. 

JADE — harass, weary, tire, worry. 

JANGLE — wrangle, conflict, disagree. 

JARRING — conflicting, discordant, inconsonant. 

JAUNT — ramble, excursion, trip. 

JEALOUSY — suspicion, envy. 

JEOPARD — hazard, peril, endanger. 

JEST— joke, sport, divert, make game of. 

JOURNEY — travel, tour, passage. 

JOY — gladness, mirth, delight. (Grief.) 

JUDGE — justice, referee, arbitrator. 

JOYFUL — glad, rejoicing, exultant. (Mournful.) 

JUDGMENT — discernment, discrimination. 

JUSTICE — equity, right. Justice is right as estab- 
lished by law ; equity according to the circum- 
stances of each particular case. (Injustice.) 

JUSTNESS — accuracy, correctness, precision. 

KEEP — preserve, save. (Abandon.) 

KILL — assassinate, murder, slay. 

KINDRED — affinity, consanguinity, relationship. 

KNOWLEDGE — erudition, learning. (Ignorance.) 

LABOR — toil, work, effort, drudgery. (Idleness.) 
LACK — need, deficiency, scarcity, insufficiencv. 

(Plenty.) 
LAMENT — mourn, grieve, weep. (Rejoice.) 
LANGUAGE — dialect, idiom, speech, tongue. 
LASCIVIOUS— loose, unchaste, lustful, lewd, lech- 
erous. (Chaste.) 
LAST— final, latest, ultimate. (First.) 
LAUDABLE — commendable. (Blamable.) 
LAUGHABLE — comical, droll, ludicrous. (Serious.) 
LAWFUL— legal, legitimate, licit. (Illegal. ) 
LEAD — conduct, guide. (Follow.) 
LEAN— meager. (Fat. ) 

LEARNED — erudite, scholarly. (Ignorant.) 
LEAVE, v. — quit, relinquish. 
LEAVE, n. — liberty, permission. (Prohibition.) 
LIFE — existence, animation, spirit. (Death.) 
LIFELESS — dead, inanimate. 
LIFT — erect, elevate, exalt, raise. (Lower.) 
LIGHT— clear, bright. (Dark.) 
LIGHTNESS— flightiness, giddiness, levity, volatil- 
ity. (Seriousness.) 
LIKENESS — resemblance, similarity. (Unlikeness.) 
LINGER — lag, loiter, tarry, saunter. (Hasten.) 
LITTLE— diminutive, small. (Great.) 
LIVELIHOOD — living, maintenance, subsistence. 
LIVELY — jocund, merry, sportive, sprightly, viva- 
cious. (Slow, languid, sluggish. ) 
I<ONG — extended, extensive. (Short.) 



LOOK — appear, seem, aspect, glance, peep. 

LOSE — miss, forfeit. (Gain.) 

LOSS — detriment, damage, deprivation. (Gain.) 

LOUD — clamorous, high-sounding, noisy. (Low, 
quiet. ) 

LOVE— affection. (Hatred.) 

LOW — abject, mean. (Noble.) 

LUNACY — derangement, insanity, mania, madness. 

(Sanity. )_ 
LUSTER — brightness, brilliancy, splendor. 
LUXURIANT— exuberant. ( Sparse. ) 

MACHINATION — plot, intrigue, cabal, conspiracy. 

(Artlessness. ) 
MAD — crazy, delirious, insane, rabid, violent, frantic. 

(Sane, rational, quiet.) 
MADNESS— insanity, fury, rage, frenzy. 
MAGISTERIAL — august, dignified, majestic, pomp- 
ous, stately. 
MAKE — form, create, produce. (Destroy. ) 
MALEDICTION — anathema, curse, imprecation. 
MALEVOLENT — malicious, virulent, malignant 

(Benevolent. ) 
MALICE — spite, rancor, ill-feeling, grudge, ani- 
mosity, ill-will. (Benignity.) 
MALICIOUS— see malevolent. 
MANACLE, v. — shackle, fetter, chain. (Free. ) 
MANAGE — contrive, concert, direct. 
MANAGEMENT — direction, superintendence, care. 
MANGLE — tear, lacerate, mutilate, cripple, maim. 
MANIA — madness, insanity, lunacy. 
MANIFEST, v. — reveal, prove, evince, exhibit, dis 

play, show. 
MANIFEST, a. — clear, plain, evident, open, appar 

ent, visible. (Hidden, occult.) 
MANIFOLD — several, sundry, various, divers. 
MANLY — masculine, vigorous, courageous, brave, 

heroic. (Effeminate.) 
MANNER — habit, custom, way, air, look. 
MANNERS — morals, habits, behavior, carriage. 
MAR — spoil, ruin , disfigure . ( Improve. ) 
MARCH — tramp, tread, walk, step, space. 
MARGIN — edge, rim, border, brink, verge. 
MARK, n. — sign, note, symptom, token, indication, 

trace, vestige, track, badge, brand. 
MARK, v. — impress, print, stamp, engrave, note. 
MARRIAGE — wedding, nuptials, matrimony. 
MARTIAL — military, warlike, soldierlike. 
MARVEL — wonderful, miracle, prodigy. 
MARVELOUS — wondrous, wonderful, miraculous. 
MASSIVE — bulky, heavy, weighty, ponderous, 

solid, substantial. (Flimsy.) 
MASTERY — dominion, rule, sway, ascendancy. 
MATCHLESS — unrivaled, unequaled, unparalleled, 

peerless, incomparable, inimitable, surpassing. 

(Common, ordinary.) 
MATERIAL, a- — corporeal, bodily, physical, tem» 

poral, momentous, (Spiritual, immaterial.) 



104 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



MAXIM — adage, apothegm, proverb, saying, by- 
word, saw. 
MEAGER — poor, lank, emaciated, barren, dry, un- 
interesting. (Rich.) 
MEAN, (7. — stingy, niggardly, low, abject, vile, 
ignoble, degraded, contemptible, vulgar, despic- 
able. (Generous.) 
MEAN, v. — design, purpose, intend, contemplate, 

signify, denote, indicate. 
MEANING — signification, import, acceptation, 

sense, purport. 
MEDIUM — organ, channel, instrument, means. 
MEDLEY — mixture, variety, diversity, miscellany. 
MEEK — unassuming, mild, gentle. ( Proud. ) 
MELANCHOLY— ^ow-spirited, dispirited, dreamy, 

sad. (Jolly, buoyant ) 
MELLOW — ripe, mature, soft. (Immature.) 
MELODIOUS — tuneful, musical, silver, dulcet, 

sweet. (Discordant.) 
MEMORABLE — signal, distinguished, marked. 
MEMORIAL — monument, memento. 
MEMORY — remembrance, recollection. 
MENACE, «.— threat. 
MEND — repair, amend, correct, better, ameliorate, 

improve, rectify. 
MENTION — tell, name, communicate, impart, C, 

vulge, reveal, disclose, inform, acquaint. 
MERCIFUL — compassionate, lenient, clement, 

tender, gracious, kind. (Cruel. ) 
MERCILESS — hard-hearted, cruel, unmerciful, piti- 
less, remorseless, unrelenting. (Kind. ) 
MERRIMENT— mirth, joviality, jollity. ( Sorrow. ) 
MERRY — cheerful, mirthful, joyous, gay, lively, 
sprightly, hilarious, blithe, blithesome, jovial, 
sportive, j oily. ( Sad. ) 
METAPHORICAL— figurative, allegorical. 
METHOD — way, manner, mode, process, order, 

rule, regularity, system. 
MIEN — air, look, manner, aspect, appearence. 
MIGRATORY — roving, strolling, wandering, va- 
grant. (Settled, sedate, permanent.) 
MIMIC — imitate, ape, mock. 
MINDFUL — observant, attentive. (Heedless.) 
MISCELLANEOUS — promicuous, indiscriminate. 
MISCHIEF — injury, harm, damage, hurt. (Benefit.) 
MISCREANT— caitiff, villain, ruffian. 
MISERABLE —unhappy, wretched, distressed, af- 
flicted. (Happy.) 
MISERLY — stingy, niggardly, avaricious, griping. 
MISERY — wretchedness, woe, destitution, penury, 

privation, beggary. (Happiness. ) 
MISFORTUNE — calamity, disaster, mishap, catas- 
trophe. (Goodluck.) 
MISS — omit, lose, fall, miscarry. 
MITIGATE — alleviate, relieve, abate. (Aggravate. ) 
MODERATE — temperate, abstemious, sober, absti- 
nent. (Immoderate.) 
MODEST — chaste, virtuous, bashful. (Immodest.) 
MOIST— wet. damp, dank, humid. (Drv,) 
MONOTONOUS— unvaried, tiresome. (Varied.; 



MONSTROUS— shocking, dreadful, horrible, huge. 

MONUMENT — memorial, record, remembrancer. 

MOOD — humor, disposition, vein, temper. 

MORBID — sick, ailing, sickly, diseased, corrupted. 
(Normal, sound.) 

MOROSE — gloomy, sullen, surly, fretful, crabbed 
crusty. (Joyous. ) 

MORTAL— deadly, fatal, human. 
MOTION— proposition, proposal, movement. 
MOTIONLESS— still, stationary, torpid, stagnant 

(Active, moving.) 
MOUNT — arise, rise, ascend, soar, tower, climb. 
MOURNFUL, — sad, sorrowful, lugubrious, grievous, 

doleful, heavy, (Happy.) 
MOVE — actuate, impel, induce, prompt, instigate, 

persuade, stir, agitate, propel, push. 
MULTITUDE— crowd, throng, host, mob, swarm. 
MURDER, v. — kill, assassinate, slay, massacre. 
MUSE, v. — meditate, contemplate, think, reflect, 

cogitate, ponder. 
MUSIC— harmony, melody, symphony. 
MUSICAL — tuneful, melodious, harmonious, sweet 
MUSTY— stale, sour, fetid. (Fresh, sweet. ) 
MUTE — dumb, silent, speechless. 
MUTILATE — maim, cripple, disable, disfigure. 
MUTINOUS — insurgent, seditious, tumultuous, tur 

bulent, riotous. (Obedient, orderly. ) 
MUTUAL — reciprocal, interchanged, correlative. 

(Sole, solitary.) 
MYSTERIOUS — dark, obscure, hidden, secret, dim, 

mystic, enigmatical, unaccountable. (Open, clear.) 
MYSTIFY — confuse, perplex. (Clear, explain.) 

NAKED — nude, bare, uncovered, unclothed, rough, 
rude, simple. (Covered, clad.) 

NAME, v. — denominate, entitle, style, designate, 
term, call, christen. 

NAME, n. — appellation, designation, denomination, 
title, cognomen, reputation, character, fame, 
credit, repute. 

NARRATE — tell, relate, detail, recount, describe, 
enumerate, rehearse, recite. 

NASTY — filthy, foul, dirty, unclean, impure, gross, 
indecent, vile. 

NATION — people, comrr'./iity, realm, state. 

NATIVE — indigenous, inborn, vernacular. 

NATURAL — original, regular, normal, bastard. 
(Unnatural, forced.) 

NEAR — nigh, neighboring, close, adjacent, contig- 
uous, intimate. (Distant.) 

NECESSARY — needful, expedient, essential, ..^dis- 
pensable, requisite. (Useless.) 

NECESSITATE— compel, force, oblige. 

NECESSITY — need, occasion , exigency, emergency 
urgency, requisite. 

NEED, n. — necessity, distress, poverty, indigence, 
want, penury. 

NEED, v. — require, want, lack. 

NEGLECT, v. — disregard, slight, omit, overlook. 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



lOi 



NEGLECT, «.— emission, failure, default, slight, 
negligence, remisness, carelessness. 

NEIGHBORHOOD — environs, vicinity, nearness, 
adjacency, proximity. 

NERVOUS— timid, timorous, shaky. 

NEW— fresh, recent, novel. (Old.) 

NEWS — tidings, intelligence, information. 

NICE — exact, accurate, good, particular, precise, 
fine, delicate. (Careless, coarse, unpleasant.) 

NIMBLE — active, brisk, lively, alert, quick, agile, 
prompt. ( Awkward. ) 

NOBILITY — aristocracy, greatness, grandeur. 

NOBLE — exalted, elevated, illustrious, great, grand, 
lofty. (Low. ) 

NOISE — cry, outcty, clamor, row, din, uproar, 
tumult. (Silence. ) 

NONSENSICAL— irrational, Josurd, silly, foolish. 
(Sensible.) 

NOTABLE — plain, evident, remarkable, striking, 
signal, rare. (Obscure.) 

NOTE, n. — token, symbol, mark, sign, indication, 
remark, comment. 

NOTED — distinguished, remarkable, eminent, re- 
nowned. (Obscure.) 

NOTICE, n. — advice, notification, intelligence. 

NOTICE, v. — mark, note, observe, attend to, heed. 

NOTIFY, v. — publish, acquaint, apprise, inform. 

NOTION — conception, idea, belief, opinion, 

NOTORIOUS — conspicuous, open, obvious, ill- 
famed. (Unknown.) 

NOURISH — nurture, cherish, foster, supply. 
(Starve, famish.) 

NOURISHMENT— food, diet, sustenance, nutrition. 

NOVEL — modern, new, fresh, recent, unused, rare, 
strange. ( Old. ) 

NOXIOUS — hurtful, deadly poisonous, deleterious, 
baneful. (Beneficial. ) 

NULLIFY — annul, vacate, invalidate, quash, can- 
cel, repeal. (Affirm.) 

NUTRITION — food, diet, nutriment, nourishment. 

OBDURATE— hard, callous, hardened, unfeeling, 
insensible. (Yielding, tractable. ) 

OBEDIENT — compliant, submissive, dutiful, re- 
spectful. (Obstinate.) 

3BESE — corpulent, fat, adipose. (Attenuated.) 

OBEY, v. — conform, comply, submit. (Rebel.) 

OBJECT, n. — aim, end, purpose, design, mark. 

OBJECT, v. — oppose, except to, contravene, im- 
peach, deprecate. (Assent.) 

OBNOXIOUS— offensive. (Agreeble.) 

OBSCURE — undistinguished, unknown. (Distin- 
guished. ) 

OBSTINATE — contumacious, headstrong, stubborn, 
obdurate. (Yielding. ) 

OCCASION —opportunity. 

5FFENCE — affront, misdeed, misdemeanor, trans- 
gression, trespass. 

)FFENSIVE — insolent, abusive. (Inoffensive.) 

OFFICE— charge, function, place. 



OFFSPRING — issue, progeny, children, posterity. 

OLD — aged, superanuated, ancient, antique, anti- 
quated, obsolete, old-fashioned. (Young, new. ) 

OMEN — presage, prognostic. 

OPAQUE— dark. (Bright, transparent. ) 

OPEN — candid, unreserved, clear, fair. (Hidden.) 

OPINION — notion, view, judgment, sentiment. 

OPINIONATED— conceited, egotistical. (Modest.) 

OPPOSE — resist, withstand, thwart. (Give way.) 

OPTION— choice. 

ORDER — method, system, regularity. (Disorder .J 

ORIGIN — cause, occasion, beginning. (End.) 

OUTLPVE— survive. 

OUTWARD — external, outside, exterior. (Inner.) 

OVER— above. (Under.) 

OVERBALANCE— outweigh , preponderate. 

OVERBEAR — bear down, overwhelm, overpower. 

OVERBEARING— haughty, arrogant. (Gentle.) 

OVERFLOW— inundation, deluge. 

OVERRULE — supersede, suppress. 

OVERSPREAD— overrun, ravage. 

OVERTURN — invert, overthrow, reverse, subvert. 
(Establish, fortify.) 

OVERWHELM— crush, defeat, vanquish. 

PAIN — suffering, qualm, pang, agony, anquish. 

(Pleasure.) 
PALLID— pale, wan. (Florid.) 
PART — division, portion, share, fraction. (Whole.) 
PARTICULAR — exact, distinct, singular, strange, 

odd. (General.) 
PATIENT — passive, submissive. (Obdurate.) 
PEACE — calm, quiet, tranquility. (War, trouble, 

riot, turbulence. ) 

PEACEABLE — pacific, peaceful, quiet. (Trouble- 
some, riotous. ) 

PENETRATE— bore, pierce, perforate. 

PENETRATION— acuteness, sagacity. (Dullness.) 

PEOPLE — nation, persons, folks. 

PERCEIVE — note, observe, discern, distinguish. 

PERCEPTION— conception, notion, idea. 

PERIL — danger, pitfall, snare. (Safety.) 

PERMIT— allow, tolerate. (Forbid.) 

PERSUADE — allure, entice, prevail upon. 

PHYSICAL — corporeal, bodily, material. (Mental.) 

PICTURE — engraving, print, representation, illus- 
tration, image. 

PITEOUS— doleful, woeful, rueful. (Joyful. ) 

PITILESS— see merciless. 

PITY — compassion, sympathy. (Cruelty.) 

PLACE, n. — spot, site, position, post, situation. 

PLACE, f.— order, dispose. 

PLAIN — open, manifest, evident. (Secret.) 

PLAY — game, sport, amusement. (Work.) 

PLEASE — gratify, pacify. (Displease. ) 

PLEASURE— charm, delight, joy. ( Pain. ) 

PLENTIFUL — abundant, ample, copious, plenteous, 
(Scarce. ) 



10G 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



POISE — balance, equilibrium, evenness. 

POSITIVE — absolute, peremptory, decided, certain. 
( Negative, undecided. ) 

POSSESSOR— owner, proprietor. 

POSSIBLE — practical, practicable. (Impossible.) 

POVERTY — penury, indigence, need. ( Wealtb. ) 

POWER — authority, force, strength, dominion. 

POWERFUL— mighty, potent. ( Weak. ) 

PRAISE — commend, extol, laud. (Blame.) 

PRAYER — entreaty, petition, request, suit. 

PRETENCE, «.— pretext, subterfuge. 

PREVAILING — predominant, prevalent, general. 
(Isolated, sporadic. ) 

PREVENT — obviate, preclude. 

PREVIOUS — antecedent, introductory, preparatory, 
preliminary. (Subsequent. ) 

PRIDE — vanity, conceit. (Humility.) 

PRINCIPALLY— chiefly, essentially, mainly. 

PRINCIPLE — ground, reason, motive, impulse, 
maxim, rule, rectitude, integrity. 

PRIVILEGE — immunity, advantage, favor, claim, 
prerogative, exemption, right. 

PROBITY — rectitude, uprightness, honesty, integ- 
rity, sincerity, soundness. (Dishonesty.) 

PROBLEMATICAL— uncertain, doubtful, dubious, 
questionable, disputable, suspicious. (Certain.) 

PRODIGIOUS — huge, enormous, vast, amazing, 
astonishing, astounding, surprising, remarkable, 
wonderful. (Insignificant. ) 

PROFESSION — business, trade, occupation, office, 
vocation, employment, engagement, avowal. 

PROFFER — volunteer, offer, propose, tender. 

PROFLIGATE — abandoned, dissolute, depraved, 
vicious, degenerate, corrupt. (Virtuous. ) 

PROFOUND — deep, fathomless, penetrating, recon- 
dite, solemn, abstruse. (Shallow.) 

PROFUSE — extravagant, prodigal, lavish, copious, 
improvident, excessive, plentiful. (Succinct.) 

PROLIFIC — productive, generative, fertile, fruitful, 
teeming. (Barren.) 

PROLIX — diffuse, long, prolonged, tedious, wordy, 
tiresome, verbose, prosaic. (Concise, brief.) 

PROMINENT — eminent, conspicuous, marked, im- 
portant, leading. (Obscure.) 

PROMISCUOUS— mixed, unarranged, mingled, in- 
discriminate. (Select.) 

PROMPT— See punctual. 

PROP, v. — maintain, sustain, support, stay. 

PROPAGATE — spread, circulate, diffuse, dissemin- 
ate, extend, breed, increase. (Suppress.) 

PROPER— legitimate, right, just, fair, equitable, 
honest, suitable, fit, adapted, meet, becoming, 
befitting, decent, pertinent. (Wrong. ) 

PROSPER — flourish, succeed, grow rich, thrive, 
advance. (Fail.) 

PROSPERITY— well-being, weal, welfare, happi- 
ness, good luck. (Poverty.) 

PROXY— agent, representative, substitute, deputy. 
PRUDENCE— carefulness, judgment, discretion, 
wisdom. (Indiscretion.) 



PRURIENT — itching, craving, hankering, longing. 
PUERILE — youthful, juvenile, boyish, childish, 

infantile, trifling, weak, silly. (Mature.) 
PUNCTILIOUS — nice, particular, formal, precise. 

(Negligent.) 

PUNCTUAL — exact, precise, nice, particular, 

prompt, timely. (Dilatory.) 
PUTREFY — rot, decompose, corrupt, decay. 
PUZZLE, v, — preplex, confound, embarrass, pose 

bewilder, confuse, mystify. (Enlighten.) 

QUACK — imposter, pretender, charlatan, empiric, 

mountebank. (Savant.) 
QUAINT — artful, curious, far-fetched, fanciful, odd. 
QUALIFIED— competent, fitted. (Incompetent.) 
QUALITY— attribute, rank, distinction. 
QUERULOUS — doubting, complaining, fretting, 

repining. (Patient.) 

QUESTION — query, inquiry, interrogatory. 

QUIBBLE — cavil, evade, equivocate, shuffle. 

QUICK — lively, ready, prompt, alert, nimble, agile, 
active, brisk, expeditious, adroit, fleet, rapid, im- 
petuous, swift, sweeping, dashing, clever. (Slow.) 

QUOTE — note, repeat, cite, adduce. 

RABID — mad, furious, raging, frantic. (Rational.) 
RACE — course, match, pursuit, career, family, clan, 

house, ancestry, lineage, pedigree. 
RACK — agonize, wring, torture, excruciate, harass, 

distress. (Soothe.) 
RACY — spicy, pungent, smart, spirited, vivacious, 

lively. (Dull, insipid.) 

RADIANCE— splendor, brightness, brilliance, bril- 
liancy, lustre, glare. (Dullness.) 

RADICAL — organic, innate, fundamental, original, 
constitutional, inherent, complete, entire. ( Super- 
ficial. In a political sense, uncompromising 
antonym, moderate.) 

RANCID — fetid, rank, stinking, sour, tainted, foul. 
(Fresh, sweet. ) 

RANCOR — malignity, hatred, hostility, antipathy, 
animosity, enmity, ill-will, spite. (Forgivejies? , 

RANK — order, degree, dignity, consideration 

RANSACK — rummage, pillage, overhaul, w&plore. 

RANSOM — emancipate, free, unfetter. 

RANT — bombast, fustian, cant. 

RAPACIOUS — ravenous, voracious, greedy, grasp* 
ing. (Generous.) 

RAPT — ecstatic, transported, ravished, entranced, 
charmed. (Distracted.) 

RAPTURE^ — ecstacy, transport, bliss. (Dejection.) 

RARE — scarce, singular, uncommon, unique. 

RASCAL — scoundrel, rogue, knave, vagabond. 

RASH — hasty, precipitate, foolhardy, adventurous, 
heedless, reckless, careless. (Deliberate. ) 

RATE — value, compute, appraise, estimate, abuse. 

RATIFY — confirm, establish, substantiate, sanction. 
(Protest, oppose.) 

RATIONAL — reasonable, sagacious, judicious, wise, 
sensible, sound. (Unreasonable. ) 

RAVAGE— overrun, overspread, desolate, despoil. 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



101 



RAVISH — t^dpture, enchant, charm, delight. 

RAZE — demolish, destroy, overthrow, dismantle, 
ruin. (Buildup.) 

REACH— touch, stretch, attain, gain, arrive at. 

READY — prepared, ripe, apt, prompt, adroit, handy. 
(Slow, dilatory.) 

REAL — actual, literal, practical, positive, certain, 
genuine, true. (Unreal.) 

REALIZE — accomplish, achieve, effect, gain, get, 
acquire, comprehend. 

REAP — gain, get, acquire, obtain. 

REASON, n. — motive, design, end, proof, cause, 
ground, purpose. 

REASON, v. — deduce, draw from, trace, conclude. 

REASONABLE — rational, wise, honest, fair, right, 
just. (Unreasonable.) 

REBELLION— insurrection, revolt. 

RECANT — recall, abjure, retract, revoke. 

RECEDE — retire, retreat, withdraw, ebb. 

RECEIVE — accept, take, admit, entertain. 

RECEPTION — receiving, levee, receipt, admission. 

RECESS — retreat, depth, niche, vacation. 

RECREATION — sport, pastime, play, amusement, 
game, fun. 

REDEEM — ransom, recover, rescue, deliver, save. 

REDRESS — remedy, repair, remission, abatement. 

REDUCE — abate, lessen, decrease, lower, shorten. 

REEINED — polite, courtly, polished, cultured, puri- 
fied, genteel. (Boorish.) 

REFLECT — consider, cogitate, think, muse, censure. 

REFORM — amend, correct, better, restore, im- 
prove. ( Corrupt. ) 

REFORMATION — improvement, reform, amend- 
ment. (Corruption.) 

REFUGE — asylum, protection, harbor, shelter. 

REFUSE, v. — deny, reject, repudiate, decline, with- 
hold. (Accept. ) 

REFUSE, it.— dregs, dross, scum, rubbish, leavings. 

REFUTE — disprove, falsify, negative. (Affirm. ) 

REGARD, v. — mind, heed, notice, behold, respect, 
view, consider. 

REGRET, n. — grief, sorrow, lamentation, remorse. 

REGULAR — orderly, uniform ".ustomary, ordinary, 
stated. (Irregular.) 

REGULATE — methodize, arrange, adjust, organize, 
govern, rule. (Disorder.) 

REIMBURSE — refund, repay, satisfy, indemnify. 

RELEVANT — fit, proper, suitable, appropriate, apt, 
pertinent. ( Irrelevant. ) 

RELIANCE — trust, hope, dependence, confidence. 
(Suspicion. ) 

RELIEF — succor, aid, help, redress, alleviation. 

RELINQUISH — give up, forsake, resign, surre-ier, 
quit, leave, forego. (Retain.) 

REMEDY — help, relief, redress, cure, speciiij. 

REMORSELESS — pitiless, relentless, cruel, ruth- 
less, merciless, barbarous. (Merciful, humane. ) 

REMOTE — distant, far, secluded, indirect. (Near. ) 

REPRODUCE — propagate, imitate, represent, copy. 



REPUDIATE — disown, discard, disavow, renounce, 
disclaim. (Acknowledge.) 

REPUGNANT— antagonistic, distasteful. (Agree- 
able.) 

REPULSIVE — forbidding, odious, ugly, disagree- 
able, revolting. (Attractive.) 

RESPITE — reprieve, interval, stop, pause. 

REVENGE — vengeance, retaliation, requital, retri- 
bution. (Forgiveness.) 

REVENUE — produce, income, fruits, proceeds. 

REVERENCE, n. — honor, respect, awe, veneration, 
deference, worship, homage. (Execration.) 

REVISE — review, reconsider. 

REVIVE — refresh, renew, renovate, animate, resus- 
citate, vivify, cheer, comfort. 

RICH — wealthy, affluent, opulent, copious, ample, 
abundant, exuberant, plentiful, fertile, gorgeous, 
superb, fruitful. (Poor.) 

RIVAL, n. — antagonist, opponent, competitor. 

ROAD — way, highway, route, course, path, path- 
way, anchorage. 

ROAM — ramble, rove, wander, stray, stroll. 

ROBUST — strong, lusty, vigorous, sinewy, stalwart, 
stout, sturdy, able-bodied. (Puny.) 

ROUT, v. — discomfit, beat, defeat, overthrow. 

ROUTE — road, course, march, way, journey, path. 

RUDE — rngged, rough, uncouth, unpolished, harsh, 
gruff, impertinent, saucy, flippant, impudent, it... 
lent, saucy, churlish. (Polite, polished.) 

RULE — sway, method, system, law, maxim, guide, 
precept, formula, regulation, government, test, 
standard. 

RUMOR — hearsay, talk, fame, report, bruit. 

RUTHLESS — cruel, savage, barbarous, inhuman, 
merciless, remorseless, relentless. (Considerate.) 

SACRED — holy, hallowed, divine, consecrated, dedi- 
cated, devoted. (Profane.) 
SAFE — secure, harmless, trustworthy. (Perilous.) 
SANCTION — confirm, countenance, encourage, sup- 
port, ratify, authorize. (Disapprove.) 
SANE — sober, lucid, sound, rational. ( Crazy. ) 
SAUCY — impertinent, rude, impudent, insolent 
flippant, forward. (Modest.) 

SCANDALIZE — shock, disgust, offend, calumniate 
vilify, revile, malign, traduce, defame, slander. 

SCANTY — bare, pinched, insufficient, slender, 
meager. (Ample.) 

SCATTER — strew, spread, disseminate, disperse, 
dissipate, dispel. (Collect. ) 

SECRET — clandestine, concealed, hidden, sly, un- 
derhand, latent, private. (Open.) 

SEDUCE — allure, attract, decoy, entice, abduct, 
inveigle, deprave. 

SENSE — discernment, appreciation, view, opinion, 
feeling, perception, sensibility, susceptibility, sig- 
nificance, thought, judgment, signification, mean- 
ing, import, purport, wisdom. 

SENSIBLE — wise, intelligent, reasonable, sober, 
sound, conscious, aware, (Foolish.) 

SETTLE — arrange, adjust, regulate, conclude. 



108 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



SEVERAL — sundry, divers, various,, many. 

SEVERE — harsh, stern, stringent, unmitigated, un- 
yielding, rough. (Lenient.) 

SHAKE — tremble, shudder, shiver, quake, quiver. 

SHALLOW — superficial, flimsy, slight. (Deep, 
thorough. ) 

SHAME — disgrace, dishonor. (Honor.) 

SHAMEFUL — degrading, scandalous, disgraceful, 
outrageous. (Honorable.) 

SHAMELESS — immodest, impudent, indecent, in- 
delicate, brazen. 

SHAPE — form, fashion, mold, model, 

SHARE — portion, lot, division, quantity, quota. 

SHARP— acute, keen. (Dull.) 

SHINE — glare, glitter, radiate, sparkle. 

SHORT — brief, concise, succinct, summary. (Long.) 

SHOW, n. — exhibition, sight, spectacle. 

SICK — diseased, sickly, unhealthy. (Healthy.) 

SICKNESS — illness, indisposition, disease, disorder. 
(Health. ) 

SIGNIFICANT, a. — expressive, material, important. 
(Insignificant.) 

SIGNIFICATION — import, meaning, sense. 

SILENCE — speechlessness, dumbness. (Noise.) 

SILENT — dumb, mute, speechless. (Talkative.) 

SIMILE — comparison, similitude. 

SIMPLE — single, uncompounded, artless, plain. 
(Complex, compound.) 

SIMULATE — dissimulate, dissemble, pretend. 

SINCERE — candid, hearty, honest, pure, genuine, 
real. (Insincere.) 

SITUATION — condition, plight, predicament, state. 

SIZE — bulk, greatness, magnitude, dimension. 

SLAVERY — servitude, enthrallment, thralldom. 
(Freedom.) 

SLEEP — doze, drowse, nap, slumber. 

SLEEPY— somnolent. (Wakeful.) 

SLOW— dilatory, tardy. (Fast.) 

SMELL — fragrance, odor, perfume, scent. 

SMOOTH— even, level, mild. (Rough.) 

SOAK — drench, imbrue, steep. 

SOCIAL — sociable, friendly, communicative. (Un- 
social.) 

SOFT— gentle, meek, mild. (Hard.) 

SOLICIT — importune, urge. 

SOLITARY— sole, only, single. 

SORRY — grieved, poor, paltry, insignificant. (Glad, 
respectable.) 

SOUL — mind, spirit. (Soul is opposed t" body, 
mind to rr'.tter.) 

SOUND, a.— healthy, sane. (Unsound ' 
SOUND, n. — tone, noise, silence. 
SPACE— room. 

SPARSE — scanty, thin. (Luxuriant.) 
SPEAK — converse, talk, confer, say, tell. 
SPECIAL — particular, specific. (General.) 
sPEND — expend, exhaust, consume, wa<=«-p dissi- 
pate (Save) 



SPORADIC — isolated, rare. (General, prevalent.) 

SPREAD — disperse, diffuse, expand, disseminate. 

SPRING. — fountain, source. 

STAFF — prop, support, stay. 

STAGGER— reel, totter. 

STAIN — soil, discolor, spot, sully, tarnish. 

STATE — commonwealth, realm, 

STERILE— barren, unfruitful. (Fertile.) 

STIFLE — choke, suffocate, smother. 

STORMY — rough, boisterous, tempestuous. (Calm.} 

STRAIGHT— direct, right. ( Crooked. ) 

STRAIT, a. — narrow, confined. 

STRANGER— alien, foreigner. (Friend.) 

STRENGTHEN— fortify, invigorate. (Weaken.) 

STRONG — robust, sturdy, powerful. (Weak. ) 

STUPID— dull, foolish, obtuse, witless. (Clever. ) 

SUBJECT — exposed to, liable, obnoxious. (Exempt,) 

SUBJECT — inferior, suborbinate. (Superior to, 

above. ) 
SUBSEQUENT— succeeding, following. (Previous.) 
SUBSTANTIAL— solid, durable. (Unsubstantial.) 
SUIT — accord, agree. (Disagree.) 
SUPERFICIAL— flimsy, shallow, untrustworthy, 

(Thorough. ) 
SUPERFLUOUS— unnecessary. ( Necessary. ) 
SURROUND — encircle, encompass, environ. 
SUSTAIN — maintain, support. 
SYMMETRY— proportion 
SYMPATHY — commiseration, compassion. 
SYSTEM— method, plan, order. 
SYSTEMATIC — orderly, regular, methodical 

(Chaotic.) 

TAKE — accept, receive. (Give.) 

TALKATIVE — garrulous, loquacious, communica 

tive. (Silent.) 
TASTE — flavor, relish, savor. (Tastelessness.) 
TAX — custom, duty, impost, excise, toll. 
TAX — assessment, rate. 
TEASE — taunt, tantalize, torment, vex. 
TEMPORARY, a.— fleeting, transient, transited; 

(Permanent. ) 
TENACIOUS — pertinacious, retentive. 
TENDENCY— aim, drift, scope. 
TENET — position, view, conviction, belief. 
TERM — boundary, limit, period, time. 
TERRITORY— dominion. 
THANKFUL— grateful, obliged. (Thankless.) 
THANKLESS — ungracious, profitless, ungrateftsJ. 

unthankful. 
THAW — melt, dissolve, liquefy. (Freeze.) 
THEATRICAL — dramatic, showy, ceremonious. 
THEFT — robbery, depredation, spoliation. 
THEME — subject, topic, text, essay. 
THEORY — speculation, scheme, plea, hypothesis-, 

conjecture. 
THEREFORE — accordingly consequently, hence 



SYNONYMS AND ANTONYMS. 



109 



THICK — dense, close, compact, solid, coagulated, 
muddy, turbid, misty, Taporous. (Thin.) 

THIN — slim, slender, slight, flimsy, lean, scraggy, 
attenuated. 

THINK — cogitate, conf der, reflect, ponder, muse, 
contemplate, medita': 1 , conceive, fancy, imagine, 
apprehend, hold, er em, reckon, consider, deem, 
regard, believe, op e. 

THOROUGH — ace ite, correct, trustworthy, com- 
plete, reliable. (Superficial.) 

THOUGHT — idea, conception, imagination, fancy, 
conceit, notion, supposition, care, provision, con- 
sideration, opinion, view, sentiment, reflection, 
deliberation. 

THOUGHTFUL — considerate, careful, cautious, 
heedful, contemplative, reflective, provident, pen- 
sive, dreamy. (Thoughtless.) 

THOUGHTLESS — inconsiderate, rash, precipitate, 
improvident, heedless. 

TIE, v. — bind, restrain, restrict, oblige, secure, join, 
unite. (Loose.) 

TIME — duration, season, period, era, age, date, 
span, spell. 

TOLERATE — allow, admit, receive, suffer, permit, 
let, endure, abide. (Oppose.) 

TOP — summit, apex, head, crown, surface. (Base, 
bottom. ) 

TORRID — burning, hot, parching, scorching. 

TORTUOUS— twisted, winding, crooked, indirect. 

TORTURE— torment, anguish, agony. 

TOUCHING — tender, affecting, moving, pathetic. 

TRACTABLE — docile, manageable, amenable. 

TRADE — traffic, commerce, dealing, occupation, 
employment, office. 

TRADITIONAL — oral, uncertain, transmitted. 

TRAFFIC — trade, exchange, commerce. 

TRAMMEL, n. — fetter, shatter, clog, bond, impedi- 
ment, chain, hindrance. 

TRANQUIL — still, unruffled, peaceful, hushed, 
quiet. (Noisy, boisterous.) 

TRANSACTION — negotiation, occurrence, proceed- 
ing, affair. 

TRAVEL — trip, p' "Urination, excursion, journey, 
tour, voyage. 

TREACHEROUS- itorous, disloyal, treasonable, 
faithless, false-hea^ .cd. (Trustworthy, faithful.) 

TRITE — stale, old, ordinary, commonplace, hack- 
neyed. (Novel. ) 

TRIUMPH — achievement, ovation, victory, jubila- 
tion, conquest. (Failure, defeat.) 

TRIVIAL — trifling, petty, small, frivolous, unim- 
portant, insignificant. (Important.) 

TRUE — genuine, actual, sincere, unaffected, true- 
hearted, honest, upright, veritable, real, veracious, 
authentic, exact, accurate, correct. 

TUMULTUOUS— turbulent, riotous, disorderly, dis- 
turbed, confused, unruly. (Orderly. ) 

TURBID — foul, thick, muddy, impure, unsettled. 

TYPE— emblem, symbol, figure, sign, kind, letter. 

*YRO — aovice, beginner, learner. 



UGLY — unsightly, plain, homery, 111-favorefl, hid 
eous. (Beautiful.) 

UMBRAGE — offense, dissatisfaction, resentment. 

UMPIRE — referee, arbitrator, judge, arbiter. 

UNANIMITY — accord, agreement, unity, concord. 
(Discord. ) 

UNBRIDLED — wanton, licentious, dissolute, loose 

UNCERTAIN— doubtful, dubious, questionable, fit 
ful, equivocal, ambiguous, indistinct, fluctuating. 

UNCIVIL — rude, discourteous, disrespectful, dis- 
obliging. (Civil.) 

UNCLEAN— dirty , foul , filthy, sullied. ( Clean. ) 

UNCOMMON — rare, strange, scarce, singular.choice. 
(Common, ordinary.) 

UNCONCERNED— careless, indifferent, apathetic, 
(Anxious. ) 

UNCOUTH— strange, odd, clumsy. (Graceful.) 

UNCOVER — reveal, strip, expose, lay bare. (Hide.) 

UNDER — below, underneath, beneath, subordinate, 
lower, inferior. (Above.) 

UNDERSTANDING— knowledge, intellect, intelli- 
gence, faculty, comprehension, mind, reason. 

UNDO — annul, frustrate, untie, unfasten, destroy. 

UNEASY — restless, disturbed, unquiet, awkward, 
stiff. (Quiet. ) 

UNEQUAL — uneven, not alike, irregular. (Even. ) 

UNEQUALED — matchless, unique, novel, new. 

UNFIT, a. — improper, unsuitable, inconsistent, un- 
timely , incompetent. ( Fit. ) 

UNFIT, v. — disable, incapacitate, disqualify. (Fit.) 

UNFORTUNATE — calamitous, ill-fated, unlucky, 
wretched, unhappy, miserable. (Fortunate.) 

UNGAINLY — clumsy, awkward, lumbering, un- 
couth. ( Pretty. ) 

UNHAPPY — miserable, wretched, distressed, pain- 
ful, afflicted, disastrous, drear, dismal. (Happy.) 

UNIFORM — regular, symmetrical, equal, even, 
alike, unvaried. (Irregular.) 

UNINTERRUPTED— continuous, perpetual, un- 
ceasing, incessant, endless. (Intermittent.) 

UNION — junction, combination, alliance, confeder- 
acy, league, coalition, agreement. (Disunion. ) 

UNIQUE — unequal, uncommon, rare, choice, match- 
less. (Common, ordinary.) 

UNITE— join, conjoin, combine, concert, add, attach 
(Separate, disrupt, sunder. ) 

UNIVERSAL — general, all, entire, total, catholk 
(Sectional. ) 

UNLIMITED — absolute, undefined, boundless infi 
nite. (Limited.) 

UNREASONABLE— foolish, silly, absurd, prepos 
terous, ridiculous. 

UNRIVALED — unequaled, unique, unexampled, 
incomparable, matchless. (Mediocre.) 

UNRULY — ungovernable, unmanageable, refrac 
tory. (Tractable, docile.) 

UNUSUAL — rare, unwonted, singular, uncommon 
remarkable, strange. (Common. ) 

UPHOLD — maintain, defend, fustaiu, flappar* ~i>» 
dicate. (Desert, abandon- \ 



110 



SYNONYMS AiMD ANTONYMS. 



UPRIGHT — vertical, perpendicular, erect, just, 
equitable, fair, pure, honorable. (Prone.) 

UPRIGHTNESS— honesty, integrity, fairness, good- 
ness, probity, virtue, honor. (Dishonesty.) 

URGE— incite, impel, push, drive, instigate, stimu- 
late, press, induce, solicit. 

URGENT — pressing, imperative, immediate, serious, 
wanted. (Uiiimportau*. ) 

USAGE — custom, fashion, practice, prescription. 
USE, n. — usage, practice, habit, custom, avail, 

advantage, uti) : ly, benefit, application. (Disuse.) 
USUAL — ordinary, common, accustomed, habitual, 

wonted, customary, general. (Unusual.) 
UTMOST — farthest, remotest, uttermost, greatest. 
UTTER, a. — extreme, excessive, sheer, mere, pure. 
UTTER, v. — speak, articulate, pronounce, express. 
UTTERLY — totally, completely, wholly, altogether. 

VACANT — empty, unfilled, unoccupied, thought- 
less, unthinking. (Occupied.) 

VAGRANT, n. — wanderer, beggar, tramp, rogue. 

VAGUE — unsettled, undetermined, pointless, un- 
certain, indefinite. (Definite.) 

VAIN — useless, fruitless, empty, worthless, inflated, 
proud, conceited, unreal. (Effectual, humble.) 

VALIANT — brave, bold, valorous, courageous, gal- 
lant. (Cowardly.) 

VALID — weighty, strong, powerful, sound, binding, 
efficient. (Invalid.) 

VALOR — courage, gallantry, boldness, bravery, 
heroism. (Cowardice.) 

VALUE, v. — appraise, assess, reckon, appreciate, 
estimate, prize, esteem, treasure. (Despise,) 

VARIABLE -— changeable, unsteady, inconstant, 
shifting, wavering, fickle, restless. (Constant.) 

VARIETY — difference, diversity, change, diversi- 
fication, mixture, medley, miscellany. (Same- 
ness, monotony.) 

VAST — spacious, boundless, mighty, enormous, im- 
mense, colossal, gigantic, prodigious. (Confined.) 

VAUNT — boast, brag, puff, hawk, advertise, parade. 

VENERABLE — grave, sage, wise, old, reverend. 

VENIAL — pardonable, excusable, justifiable. (Se- 
rious, grave.) 

VENOM — poison, virus, spite, malice, malignity. 

VENTURE, n. — speculation, chance, peril, stake. 

VERACITY— truth, truthfulness, credibility, accu- 
racy. ( Falsehood. ) 

VERBAL — oral, spoken, literal, parole, unwritten. 

VERDICT— judgment, finding, decision, answer. 

VEXATION — chagrin, mortification. (Pleasure.) 

VIBRATE — oscillate, swing, sway, wave, thrill. 

VICE— vileness, corruption, depravity, pollution, 
immorality, wickedness, guilt, iniquity. (Virtue.) 

VICIOUS — corrupt, depraved, debased, bad, unruly, 
contrary, demoralized, profligate, faulty. (Gentle, 
virtuous.) 

VICTIM — sacrifice, food, prey, sufferer, dupe, gull. 

VICTUALS — viands, bread, meat, provisions, fare, 
food, repast. 



VIOLENT — boisterous, furious, impetuous, vene 

ment. (Gentle.) 
VIRTUOUS— upright, honest, moral. (Profligate.'! 
VISION — apparition, ghost, phantom, specter. 
VOLUPTUARY— epicure, sensualist. 
VOUCH — affirm, asserverate, assure, aver. 

WAIT — await, expect, look for, wait for. 

WAKEFUL— vigilant, watchful. (Sleepy.) 

WANDER — range, ramble, roam, rove, stroll. 

WANT — lack, need. (Abundance.) 

WARY — circumspect, cautious. (Foolhardy.) 

WASH — clean, rinse, wet, moisten, stain, tint. 

WASTE, v. — squander, dissipate, lavish, destroy 
decay, dwindle, wither. 

WAY--method, plan, system, means, manner, mode 
form, fashion, course, process, road, route, track, 
path, habit, practice. 

WEAKEN — debilitate, enfeeble, enervate, invali- 
date. (Strengthen.) 

WEARY — harass, jade, tire, fatigue. (Refresh.) 

WEIGHT — gravity, heaviness, burden, load. 
(Lightness.) 

WELL-BEING — happiness, prosperity, welfare. 

WHOLE — entire, complete, total, integral. (Part.) 

WICKED — iniquitous, nefarious. (Virtuous.) 

WILL — wish, desire. 

WILLINGLY — spontaneously, voluntarily. (Un- 
willingly. ) 

WIN — get, obtain, gain, procure, effect, realize, 
accomplish, achieve. (Lose.) 

WINNING — attractive, charming, fascinating, be- 
witching, enchanting, dazzling. (Repulsive.) 

WISDOM — prudence, foresight, far-sightedness, 
sagacity. (Foolishness.) 

WONDER, v. — admire, amaze, astonish, surprise. 

WONDER, n. — marvel, miracle, prodigy. 

WRONG — injustice, injury. (Right.) 

YAWN — gape, open wide. 

YEARN — hanker after, long for, desire, crave. 

YELL— bellow, cry out, scream. 

YELLOW— golden, saffron-like. 

YELP — bark, sharp cry, howl. 

YET — besides, nevertheless, notwithstanding, how. 

ever, still, ultimately, at last, so far, thus far. 
YIELD — bear, give, afford, impart, communicate, 

confer, bestow, abdicate, resign, cede, surrender. 
YIELDING — supple, pliant, bending, compliant, 

submissive, unresisting. (Obstinate.) 
YOKE, v. — couple, link, connect. 
YORE — long ago, long since. 
YOUTH — boy, lad, minority, adolescence. 
YOUTHFUL— juvenile, puerile. (Old.) 

ZEAL — energy, fervor, ardor, earnestness, entha- 

siam, eagerness. (Indifference.) 
ZEALOUS — warm, ardent, fervent, enthusiastic 

anxious. (Indifferent, careless. ) 
ZEST — relish, gusto, flavor. (Disgust > 



Noms De Plume of Authors 



ASSUMED NAME REAI, NAME 

A Country Parson . .. . Archbishop Whatel., 

Agate Whitelaw Reid 

A. K. H. B Rev. A. K. H. Boyd 

A. L. O. E Miss Charlotte Tucker 

Alfred Crowquill A. H. Forrester 

Ameriras ....... Dr. Francis Lieber 

Amy Lf^hrop Miss Anna B. Warner 

American Girl Abroad . Miss Trafton 
Artemus Ward .... Charles F. Browne 
Asa Trenchard .... Henry Watterson 

Aunt Kitty Maria J. Macintosh 

Aunt Mary ...... Mary A. Lathbury 

Barnacle ....... A. C. Barnes 

Barry Cornwall .... Bryan Waller Proctor 

J Benjamin, Austin, and 
enaU ■? 1 Lyman Abbott 

Besieged Resident . . . Henry Labouchere 

Bibliophile Samuel Austin Allibone 

Bill Arp Charles H. Smith 

Blythe White, Jr. . . . Solon Robinson 

Bookworm ...... Thomas F. Donnelly 

Boston Bard ...... Robert S. Coffin 

Boz Charles Dickens 

Brick Pomeroy .... Mark M. Pomeroy 

Burleigh Rev. Matthew Hale Smith 

Burlington ...... Robert Saunders 

Carl Benson Charles A. Bristed 

Chartist Parson .... Rev. Charles Kingsley 
Chinese Philosopher . . Oliver Goldsmith 
Christopher Crowfield . Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe 
Chrystal Croftangry . . Sir Walter Scott 

Claribel Mrs. Caroline Barnard 

Country Parson .... A. K. H. Boyd 

Cousin Alice Mrs. Alice B. Haven 

Cousin Kate Catherine D. Bell 

„ „ ,, J Charlotte Bronte (Mrs. 

CurrerBdl 1 Nichols) 

Daubury Newsman . . J. M. Bailey 
Diedrich Knickerbocker Washington Irving 

Dolores Miss Dickson 

Dow, Jr Elbridge G. Page 

Pr. Syntax William Combe 

*Vmn Browne . . . , , Rev. Samuel Fiske 
111 



ASSUMED NAME REAI, NAMltf 

E. D.E.N \ M l S - ^l^ * l 

<■ Southworth 

Edmund Kirke .... James Roberts Gilmore 

Eleanor Kirke Mrs. Nolly Ames 

Elia Charles Lamb 

Eli Perkins Matthew D. Landon 

Elizabeth Wetherell . . Susan Warner 

Ella Rodman Mrs. Eliza Rodman 

Ellis Bell Emily J. Bronte 

English Opium- Eater . Thomas DeQuincy 

Ettrick Shepherd . . . James Hogg 

Eugene Pomeroy . . . Thomas F. Donnelly 

Falconbridge Jonathan F. Kelly 

^ — ( Wife of James Parton *n£. 

Fanny Fern. .....{ sister of N . R will ,, 

Fanny Fielding .... Mary J . S. Upsher 

Fanny Forester .... Emily C. Judson 

Fat Contributor . . . . A. M. Griswold 

Father Prout Francis Mahoney 

Florence Percy .... Mrs. Elizabeth Akers Allen 

Frank Forrester .... Henry W. Herbert 

_ ., „ .,, f Miss Mary Abigail Dodge 

Gail Hamilton . . . . i ,^ ... " & 

<- of Hamilton 

Gath, also Laertes . . . George Alfred Townsend 

Geofi- , Crayon .... Washington Irving 

George Eliot Mrs. Marian Lewes Cross 

George Fitz Boodle . . William M. Thackeray 

George Forest Rev. J. G. Wood 

P e j / Mme. Amantine Luciil* 

"I Aurore Dudevant 

Grace Greenwood . . . Mrs. Sara J. Lippincott 

Grace Wharton . . . . A. T. Thompson 

Hans Breitmann . . . Charles Godfrey Leland 

Hans Yokel A. Oakey Hall 

Harriet Myrtle .... Mrs. Lydia F. F. Mille 

Harry Hazell Justin Jones 

Harry Lorrequer . . . Charles Lever 

Hesba Stretton .... Miss Hannah Smith 

Hibernicus De Witt Clinton 

Historicus Wm. G. Vernon HarcouSk 

Hosea Bigelow .... James Russell Lowell 

Howadji George William Curtis 

Howard - Mordecai Manuel Wcr* 



112 



NOMS DE PLUME OF AUTHORS. 



ASSUMED NAME REAI, NAME 

Howard Glyndon . . . Laura C. Redden 

Hyperion Josiali Quincy 

Ianthe Emma C. Embury 

Ik Marvel Donald G. Mitchell 

^renaeus Rev. S. Irenaeus Prime, D.D. 

tsabel William Gilmore Simms 

Janus Dr. Dollinger 

Jaques J. Hain Friswell 

Jay Charlton J. C. Goldsmith 

Jedediah Cleishbotham Sir Walter Scott 

Jennie June Mrs. Jennie C. Croly 

John Chalkhill .... Izaak Walton 

John Darby J. C. Garretson 

John Paul'. C.H.Webb 

John Phoenix, Gentleman George H. Derby 
Josh Billings ..... Henry W. Shaw 

Joshua Coffin H. W. Longfellow 

Kate Campbell .... Jane Elizabeth Lincoln 

Kirwan Rev. Nicholas Murray 

K. N. Pepper ... James M Morris 

Laicus Rev. Lyman Abbott 

Launcelot Wagstaffe, Jr. Charles Mackay 
Lemuel Gulliver . . . Jonathan Swift 
Louise Muhlbach . . . Clara Mundt 
Major Jack Downing . . Seba Smith 
Marion Harland .... Mary V. Terhune 

Mark Twain Samuel L. Clemens 

Max Adler ... . . Charles H. Clark 
olinnie Myrtle .... Miss Anna C. Johnson 

Mintwood Miss Mary A. E. Wager 

M. Quad Charles B. Lewis 

Mrs. Partington . . . . B. P. Shillaber 

M. T. Jug Joseph Howard 

Ned Buntline Edward Z. C. Judson 

Nym Crinkle A. C. Wheeler 

Old Bachelor ... . George William Curtis 

Old Cabinet R. Watson Gilder 

Old Humphrey .... George Mogridge 

Old'Un Francis Alexander Durivage 

Oliver Optic William Taylor Adams 

Olivia Emily Edson Grigg 

Ollapod Willis G. Clark 

Orpheus C. Kerr . . . Robert H. Newell 

Ouida Louisa De La Ranu; 

Owen Meredith .... Lord Lytton 

Parson Brownlow . . . Wm. Gunnaway Brownlow 

Patty Lee Alice Cary 

Paul Creyton J. T. Trowbridge 

Pen Holder Rev. Edward Eggleston 

Pequot Charles W. March 

Perdita Mrs. Mary Robinson 

Perley Benj. Perley Poore 

Peter Parley S. G. Goodrich 

Peter Pindar Dr. John Woloot 



ASSUMED NAME 



REAI, NAMM 



Petroleum V. Nasby . . D. R. Locke 

Phcenix Sir Henry Martin 

Poor Richard Benjamin Franklin 

Porte Crayon David H. Strother 

Private Miles O'Reilly . Charles G. Halpine 
Robinson Crusoe . . . Daniel Defoe 

Runnymede Lord Beaconsfield 

Rustic Bard Robert Dinsmore 

Sam Slick Thomas C. Halliburton 

Saxe Holm Miss Rush Ellis 

Shirley Dare Mrs. Susan D. Waters 

Sophie May Mrs. Eckerson 

Sophie Sparkle .... Jennie E. Hicks 

Sparrowgrass F. S. Cozzens 

Straws, Jr . Kate Field 

Susan Coolidge .... Miss Woolsey 
Teufelsdrceckh .... Thomas Carlyle 

Teutha William J er dan 

The Black Dwarf . . . Thomas J. Woolex 

The Celt Thomas Davis 

The Druid Henry H. Dixon 

The Governor Henry Morford 

The Traveller Isaac Stary 

Theodore Taylor , . . J. C. Hotten 
Thomas Ingoldsby . . . Rev. R. H. Barham 

Thomas Little Thomas Moore 

Thomas Rowley .... Thomas Chatterton 
Timon Fieldtnouse . . William B. Rands 
Timothy Tickler . . . Robert Syme 
Timothy Titcomb ... Dr. J. G. Holland 

Tom Brown Thomas Hughes 

Tom Folio Joseph E. Babson 

Tom Hawkins Theodore W. A. Buckie; 

Trinculo John A. Cockerill 

Tristram Merton . . . Thomas B. Macaulay 

Two Brothers A. and C. Tennyson 

Ubique Parker Gilmore 

Una Mary A. Ford 

Uncle Hardy William Senior 

Uncle John Elisha Noyce 

Uncle Philip Rev. Dr. F. L. Hawk? 

Uncle Toby ...... Rev. Tobias H. Miller 

Veteran Observer . . . E. D. Mansfield 

Vigilant John Corlett 

Vivian George H. Lewes 

Vivian Joyeux .... W. M. Praed 
Walter Maynard .... William Beale 

Warhawk William Palmer 

Warrington W. P. Robinson 

Warwick F. O. Otterson 

Waters William H. RusseL 

What's His Name . . . E. C. Massey 
Wilibald, Alexis .... William Haering 
I Wizard John Corletr 



PART II. 

Readings and Recitations 

FROM THE 

Most Celebrated Authors 

COMPRISING 

THRILLING BATTLE SCENES AND VICTORIES ; BEAUTIFUL DESCRIPTIONS ; SOUL-STIR 
RING DEEDS OF HEROISM ; WITTY AND HUMOROUS SELECTIONS ; PATHETIC 
PIECES; FAMOUS ORATIONS; RECITATIONS FOR CHILDREN; READ- 
INGS WITH ACCOMPANIMENTS OF MUSIC; DRILLS; LESSON 

TALKS, ETC. 



HOW TO READ AND RECITE. 




OOD readers and reciters are ex- 
1 ; tremely rare, and it is because suf- 
ficient time and study are not de- 
voted to the art of elocution. Not one 
educated man in ten can read a paragraph 
in a newspaper so effectively that to listen to 
him is a pleasure, and not a pain. 

Many persons are unable so to express the 
word" as to convey their meaning. They 
pervert the sense of the sentence by empha- 
sizing in the wrong place, or deprive it of all 
sense by a monotonous gabble, giving no 
emphasis to any words they utter. They 
neglect the " stops," as they are called ; they 
make harsh music with their voices ; they 
hiss, or croak, or splutter, or mutter — every- 
thing but speak the words set down for them 
as they would have talked them to you in 
conversation. 

Why should this be ? Why should correct 
reading be rare, pleasant reading rarer still, 
and good reading found only in one person 
in ten thousand ? Let me urge you with 
all earnestness to become an accomplished 



reader and reciter. This is something to be 
coveted, and it is worth your while to acquire 
it, though it cost you much time and labor. 
Attend to the rules here furnished. 

Cultivation of the Voice. 

Accustom yourself to reading and reciting 
aloud. Some of our greatest orators have 
made it a practice to do this in the open air, 
throwing out the voice with full volume, call- 
ing with prolonged vowel sounds to some 
object in the distance, and thus strengthening 
the throat and lungs. Every day you should 
practice breathings ; by which I mean that 
you should take in a full breath, expand the 
lungs to their full capacity, and then emit 
the breath slowly, and again suddenly with 
explosive force. A good, flexible voic is 
the first thing to be considered. 

Distinct Enunciation. 

When you hear a person read or speak 
you are always pleased if the full quantity is 
given to each syllable of every word. Only 

IIS 



114 



HOW TO READ AND RECITE. 



in this way can the correct meaning of the 
sentence be conveyed. People who are par- 
tially deaf will tell you that they are not 
always able to hear those who speak the 
loudest, but those who speak the most dis- 
tinctly. Do not recite to persons who are 
nearest to you, but rather glance at those 
who are farthest away, and measure the 
amount of volume required to make them 

hear. 

Emphasis. 

Some word or words in every sentence 

are more important, and require greater 

emphasis than others. You must get at 

the exact meaning of the sentence, and be 

governed by this. The finest effects can be 

produced by making words emphatic where 

the meaning demands it. Look well to this. 

Pauses- 
Avoid a sing-song, monotonous style of 
delivery. Break the flow where it is required; 
you will always notice how skillfully a 
trained elocutionist observes the proper 
pauses. Have such command of yourself 
that you do not need to hurry on with your 
recitation at the same pace from beginning 
o end. The pause enables the hearer to 
take in the meaning of the words, and is 
therefore always to be observed. 

Gestures. 

Speak with your whole body, not merely 
with your tongue and lips. It is permissible 
to even stamp with your foot when the sense 
calls for it. Speak with your eyes, with your 
facial expression, with your fingers, with 
your clenched fist, with your arm, with the 
pose of your body, with all the varying atti- 
tudes needful to express what you have to 
say with the greatest effect. 

Stand, as a rule, with one foot slightly in 
advance of the other, the weight of the body 
resting upon the foot farther back. Do not 
be tied to one position ; hold yourself at 



liberty to change your position and move 
about. Do not hold your elbows close to 
your body, as if your arms were strapped to 
your sides. Make the gesture in point of 
time slightly in advance of the word or 
words it is to illustrate. 

The Magnetic Speaker. 

It has always been said that the poet is 
born, but the orator is made. This is not 
wholly correct, for the more magnetism you 
were born with, the better speaker you will 
become. Still, the indefinable thing called 
magnetism is something that can be culti- 
vated ; at least you can learn how to show 
it, and permit it to exert its wonderful influ- 
ence over your hearers. 

Put yourself into your recitations in such 
a way that the thoughts and sentiments you 
express shall, for the time being, be your 
own. Every nerve and muscle of your body, 
every thought and emotion of your mind, in 
short, your whole being should be enlisted. 
You should become transformed, taking on 
the character required by the reading or 
recitation, and making it your own. 

Persons who can thus lose themselves in 
what they are saying, and throw into their 
recitations all the force and magnetism of 
which they are capable, are sure to meet 
with success. 

Self-Command. 

Young persons naturally feel embarrassed 
when they face an audience. Some of our 
greatest orators have known what this is, and 
were compelled to labor hard to overcome it. 
Practice alone will give you confidence, unless 
you possess it already, and this is true of only 
a few young persons. 

Do your utmost to control yourself. Let 
your will come into play ; strong will, gov- 
erning every emotion of the mind and move- 
ment of the body, is absolutely essential. Do 
not be brazen, but self-confident. 



Typical Gestures to be Used in Reading and Reciting 




Fig. 1. — Malediction. 

Traitors ! I would call down the wrath of 
Heaven on them. 




Pig. 3.— Silence. 

there was silence deep as death, 
And the boldest held his breath. 




Fig. a.— Designating. 

Scorn points his slew, unmoving finger. 




Fig. 4.— Repulsion. 

Back to thy punishment, false fugitive, 
And to thy speed add wings ! 

115 



116 



TYPICAL GESTURES. 





/ 

illlil 



■ft 



■I 'IL 



Fig. 5.— Declaring. 

I speak the truth, and dare 
to speak it. 




^ig. 7.— Discerning. 
A sail, ho 1 A dim speck on 
the horizon. 




Fig. 6. — Announcing. 

We proclaim the liberty that God gave 
when He gave us life. 




Fig. 8.— Invocation. 

Angels and ministers of 
grace, defend us 1 



TYPICAL GESTURES. 



itt 




Fig. 9. — Presenting or Receiving. 

Welcome the coming, speed 
the going guest. 




Pig. 10.— Horror. 

Methought I heard a voice cry, " Sleep no ii«omj' 
Macbeth, does murder sleep ?" 





Pig. 11.— Exaltation. 

Washington is in the clear upper sky. 



Pig. 12.— Secrecy. 

Be mute, be secret as the grave. 



118 



TYPICAL GESTURES. 




Pig. 13.— Wonderment. 

While the dance was the merriest, the door 
opened and there stood the parson ! 





Pig. 14.— Indecisiorr. 

Shall I take back my promise ? 'Twill but 
expose me to contempt. 




Fig. 15.— Grief. 

O, that by weeping I could 
heal my sorrow ! 



Fig. 16.— Gladness. 

No pen, no tongue can summon power 
To tell the transports of that hour. 



TYPICAL GESTURES. 



119 





Fig. 17.— Signalling. 

There stood Count Wagstaff, beckoning. 



Pig. 18.— Tender Rejection. 

It has come at last ; I must say, No. 





Pig. 19.— Protecting— Soothing. 

Boy ! Harold ! safely rest, 
Enjoy the honey-dew of slumber. 



Pig. 20.— Anguish. 

My cup with agony is filled, 

From nettles sharp as death distilled. 



i20 



TYPICAL GESTURES. 




. Pig. 21.— Awe— Appeal. 

Spirits of the just made perfect, from your 
empyrean heights look down ! 





Pig. 22.— Meditation. 

A lonely man, wending his slow way along 
and lost in deepest thought. 



Fig. 23.— Defiance. 

Defy the devil ; consider he 
is the enemy of mankind. 




Fig. 24.— Denying— Rejecting. 

Yes, if this were my last breath I would 
deny these infamous charges. 



TYPICAL GESTURES. 



121 




Pig. 25.- Dispersion. 

Spain's proud Armada was 
scattered to the winds. 





Pig. 26.— Remorse. 

A thoughtless, wicked deed; it stings 
sharper than a serpent's tooth. 




Fig. 27.— Accusation. 

And Nathan said to David, 
Thou art the man. 



Fig. 28.— Revealing. 

The way she kept it was, of course, 
To tell it all and make it worse. 



J 92 



TYPICAL GESTURES. 




Pig. 29.— Correct Positions of the Hands. 

3. Simple affirmation. 2. Emphatic declaration. 3. Apathy or 
prostration. 4. Energetic appeal. 5. Negation or denial. 6. Violent 
repulsion. 7. Indexing or cautioning. 8. Determination or anger. 
9. Supplication. 10. Gentle entreaty. 11. Carelessness. 12. Argu° 
mentation. 13. Earnest entreaty. 14. Resignation. 



RECITATIONS WITH LESSON TALKS, 

SHOWING BY EXAMPLES HOW TO READ AND RECITE. 



THE SONG OF OUR SOLDIERS AT SANTIAGO. 

When the destruction of Admiral Cervera's fleet became known before Santiago, the America?: 
soldiers cheered wildly, and, with one accord, through miles of trenches, began singing " The Star 
Spangled Banner." You should preface the recitation with the foregoing statement. 




2. 



INGING " The Star Spangled Ban- 
ner" 

In the very jaws of death ! 
Singing our glorious anthem, 

Some with their latest breath ! 
The strains of that solemn music 

Through the spirit will ever roll, 
Thrilling Hath martial ardor 
The depths of each patriot soul. 

Hearing the hum of the bullets ! 

Eager to charge the foe ! 
Biding the call to battle, 

Where crimson heart streams flow! 



Thinking of home and dear ones, 
Of mother, of child, of wife, 

They sang " The Star Spangled Banner ' 
On that field of deadly strife. 

They sang with the voices of heroes, 

In the face of the Spanish guns, 
As they leaned on their loaded rifles, 

With the courage that never runs. 
They sang to our glorious emblem, 

Upraised on that war-worn sod, 
As the saints in the old arena 

Sang a song of praise to God. 

David Graham Adee. 



LESSON TALK. 



This selection is inspiring. It is brimful of the 
glow of patriotism. To deliver it, therefore, in a 
dull, listless, indifferent manner would suppress the 
natural sentiment of the piece and rob it of the effect 
it would otherwise produce. Be alive ; not wooden 
and nerveless. If you were standing in a crowd and 
a brass band should come along and strike up the 
" Star Spangled Banner,'' you would instantly see 
the change that would come over the assembled 
throng. Every heart would be moved, every face 
would be filled with expression, every nerve would 
seem to tingle. 

When you are to deliver a selection of this kind, 
come before your audience with your body straight- 
ened to its full height, your shoulders thrown back, 
and your head erect. For the time being you are a 
patriot, and are saying some grand things about the 
Stars and Stripes and about our brave heroes who 



have carried " Old Glory " to victory on so man/ 
battlefields. 

Your manner must indicate that you appreciate 
their heroism, that you are ready to extol it, and that 
you expect your hearers to share the emotions of 
your own breast. You should know what tones of 
voice your are to employ in expressing most effective- 
ly the sentiments of the piece, what gestures should 
be used and what words are to be emphasized. 

I. Taking now the first verse, you should let the 
tones of your voice out full and clear on the first 
line, lowering your voice on the second line; then 
letting your voice ring out again on the third line, 
and again subduing it on the fourth. Here is a fine 
opportunity for contrast between strong tones and 
tones subdued and suggestive of death. It would 
not be amiss to give the words " their latest breath " 
in a whisper. Prolong the sound on the word " roll." ' 

123 



124 



RECITATIONS AND LESSON TALKS. 



The word " thrilling " should be expressed with 
energetic impulse, and the voice lowered, yet round 
and full, on the last line. 

2. With hands elevated as high as the shoulders 
and palms turned outward, expressive of wonder and 
almost alarm, deliver the first line of the second 
verse. Suddenly change to confidence and courage 
in the next three lines. Express nothing here that 
could suggest timidity, but rather the opposite. 

" Thinking of home and dear ones, 
Of mother, of child, of wife," 



should be spoken in a thoughtful mood, with head 



dropped on breast ; then lift it as you speak the two 
lines that follow, the last of which refers to the field 
of battle and should be designated, as in Figure 2 of 
Typical Gestures, found in the preceding pages. 

3. At the beginning of verse three, elevate your 
voice and prolong the tones. The words " never 
runs " are emphatic ; put stress on them. On the 
fifth and sixth lines of this verse use the gesture foi 
Exaltation, Figure 1 1 of Typical Gestures — arm lifted 
as high as the head and palm opened upward, giving 
the arm at the same time a circular motion. The last 
two lines should be delivered with hands clasped, palm 
to palm, in front of the breast, and eyes turned upward. 



©M©- 



THE VICTOR OF MARENGO. 



Yo[\APOLEON was sitting in his tent; 
I —1 before him lay a map of Italy. He 
|b ^ took four pins and stuck them 
up; measured, moved the pins, and measured 
again. " Now," said he, " that is right ; I 
will capture him there ! " " Who, sir ? " said 
an officer. " Milas, the old fox of Austria. 
He will retire from Genoa, pass Turin, and 
fall back on Alexandria. I shall cross the 
Po, meet him on the plains of Laconia, and 
conquer him there," and the finger o c the 
child of destiny pointed to Marengo. 

2. Two months later the memorable cam- 
paign of 1800 began. The 20th of May saw 
Napoleon on the heights of St. Bernard. The 
2?d, Lannes, with the army of Genoa, held 
Padua. So far, all had been well with Na- 
poleon. He had compelled the Austrians to 
take the position he desired ; reduced the 
army from one hundred and twenty thousand 
to forty thousand men; dispatched Murat 
to the right, and June 14th moved forward 
to consummate his masterly plan. 
1 3. But God threatened to overthrow his 
scheme ! A little rain had fallen in the Alps, 
and the Po could not be crossed in time. 
The battle was begun. Milas, pushed to 
the wall, resolved to cut his way out; and 
Napoleon reached the field to see Lannes 



beaten — Champeaux dead — Desaix still 
charging old Milas, with his Austrian pha- 
lanx at Marengo, till the consular guard gave 
way, and the well-planned victory was a terri- 
ble defeat. Just as the day was lost, Desaix, 
the boy General, sweeping across the field at 
the head of his cavalry, halted on the emi- 
nence where stood Napoleon. 

4. There was in the corps a drummet-boy, 
a gamin whom Desaix had picked up in the 
the streets of Paris. He had followed the 
victorious eagle of France in the campaigns 
of Egypt and Germany. As the columns 
halted, Napoleon shouted to him : " Beat a 
retreat ! " The boy did not stir. " Gamin, 
beat a retreat ! " The boy stopped, grasped 
his drum-sticks, and said : " Sir, I do not 
know how to beat a retreat ; Desaix never 
taught me that ; but I can beat a charge, — ■ 
Oh ! I can beat a charge that will make the 
dead fall into line. I beat that charge at the 
Pyramid : I beat that charge at Mount Tabor: 
I beat it again at the bridge of Lodi. May 
I beat it here ? " 

5. Napoleon turned to Desaix, and said: 
" We are beaten ; what shall we do ? " " Do ? 
Beat them ! It is only three o'clock, and 
there is time enough to win a victory yet. 
Up ! the charge ! beat the old charge ol 



RECITATIONS AND LESSON TALKS. 



12a 



Mount Tabor and Lodi ! " A moment later 
the corps, following the sword-gleam of De- 
saix, and keeping -step with the furious roll 
of the gamin's drum, swept down on the 
host of Austrians. They drove the first line 
back on the second — both on the third, and 
there they died. Desaix fell at the first 
volley, but the line never faltered, and as the 
smoke cleared away the gamin was seen in 
front of his line marching right on, and still 
beating the furious charge. 



6. Over the dead and wounded, over breast- 
works and fallen foe, over cannon belching 
forth their fire of death, he led the way to 
victory, and the fifteen days in Italy were 
ended. To-day men point to Marengo in 
wonder. They admire the power and fore- 
sight that so skillfully handled the battle^ 
but they forget that a General only thirty 
years of age made a victory of a defeat. They 
forget that a gamin of Paris put to shame 
" the child of destiny." 



LESSON TALK. 



A story or a narrative like this should be read in a 
more easy, conversational manner than is demanded 
for selections more tragic or oratorical. Yet a great 
variety of expression can be introduced into this 
piece, and without it, the reading will be tame. 

1. In the first part of this verse spread your hands 
forward, then outward with the palms downward, to 
indicate the map of Italy which is lying before the 
great general. In a tone of triumph, accompanied 
with firmness and decision, Napoleon says, "I will 
capture him there.'' Use the gesture for defiance, 
Figure 23, in Typical Gestures. Your body must be 
immediately relaxed as you ask the question, "Who, 
sir ? " Let the answer be given with utterance some- 
what rapid, still indicating firmness and decision. 

2. This verse is easy narrative and should be re- 
cited as you would tell it to a friend in conversation. 
The words " masterly plan " in the last line are 
emphatic. 

3. In the first line of this verse use the gesture 
shown in Figure 24 of Typical Gestures, indicating 
that Napoleon's scheme was rejected by God and 
brought to nought. The style of narrative here is 
very concise and the sentences should follow one 
another in quick succession. " Milas, pushed to the 



wall," should be expressed by Figure 4 of Typical 
Gestures. When you come to the words " the well- 
planned victory was a terrible defeat," stretch forth 
your right arm as in Figure 6 of Typical Gestures, 
dropping it to your side heavily on the last word. 
Point to the boy general sweeping across the field 
and to the eminence where Napoleon stood. Cham- 
peaux is pronounced Shon-po ; Desaix is pronounced 
De-say. 

4. Here you drop again into easy narrative until 
you come to the words, "Beat a retreat!" These 
are to be shouted as if you were the officer on the 
battlefield giving the command. Put intense expres- 
sion into the boy's appeal, as he states that he does 
not know how to beat a retreat, and pleads to be per- 
mitted to beat a charge. There is opportunity here 
for grand effect as you deliver these lines. 

5 and 6. Use the gesture for Defiance on the 
words, " Up ! the charge ! " You are ordering an 
advance, resolved to win the victory. The remainder 
of this verse and the following is narrative and de- 
mands quite a different rendering from the words 01 
command in other parts of the selection. If you 
recite it in such a way as to express the full meaning 
it will captivate your hearers. 




NE morning, fifty years ago— 

When apple-trees were white with snow 
f Of fragrant blossoms, and the air 
Was spellbound with the perfume rare — 
Upon a farm horse, large and lean, 

And lazy with its double load, 
A. sun-brown youth and maid were seen 
Jogging along the winding road 



THE WEDDING FEE. 

Blue were the arches of the skies, 
But bluer were that maiden's eyes ! 
The dewdrops on the grass were bright, 
But brighter was the loving light 
That sparkled 'neath each long-fringed lid, 
Where those bright eyes of blue were hid ; 
Adown the shoulders, brown and bare, 
Rolled the soft waves of golden ha*»- 



126 



RECITATIONS AND LESSON TAIJtS. 



3. So on they ride, until among 

The new-born leaves with dew-drops hung, 
The parsonage, arrayed in white, 
Peers out — a more than welcome sight. 

Then with a cloud upon his face, 
' ' What shall we do ? " he turned to say, 
• ' Should he refuse to take his pay 

From what is in the pillow case ? " 

j. And glancing down his eyes surveyed 
The pillow case before him laid, 
Whose contents reaching to its hem, 
Might purchase endless joys for them. 
The maiden answers : " Let us wait; 

To borrow trouble where's the need ? ' ' 
Then at the parson's squeaking gate 

Halted the more than willing steed. 

j. Down from his horse the bridegroom sprung; 
The latchless gate behind him swung. 
The knocker of that startled door, 
Struck as it never was before, 

Brought the whole household, pale with 
fright, 



And there with blushes on his cheek, 
So bashful he could hardly speak, 

The parson met their wondering sight. 

The groom goes in, his errand tells, 
And as the parson nods, he leans 

Far out across the window-sill and yells — 
"Come in. He says he'll take the beans ! '' 

Oh ! how she jumped ! With one glad bounc? 

She and the bean-bag reached the ground. 

Then, clasping with each dimpled arm 
The precious products of the farm, 
She bears it through the open door, 
And down upon the parlor floor 
Dumps the best beans vines ever bore. 

Ah ! happy were their songs that day, 
When man and wife they rode away ; 
But happier this chorus still 

Which echoed through those woodland 
scenes : 
" God bless the priest of Whittensville ! 

God bless the man who took the beans." 



LESSON TALK. 



The quiet humor of this piece stands in strong 
contrast to selections of a tragic character, and if it 
is recited in an easy pleasant way, it is sure to be 
appreciated by all who hear it. Adapt your voice 
and manner, therefore, to the style of narrative. 

1. With the right hand extended designate the 
farm horse, large and lean. Drawl out the word 
lazy in the next line, and continue this slow utter- 
ance to the end of the verse. 

2. The sentiment changes in the next verse and 
requires more animation. In the first line make the 
gesture shown in Figure 21 of Typical Gestures, in 
the beginning of Part II, of this volume. Become 
more animated as you describe the maiden's eyes 
and the soft waves of her golden hair. 

3. The young couple reach the parsonage and 
your manner should suggest theirs ; they have come 
on very important business. Express the embar- 
rassment of the young man as he asks the question : 
■' What shall we do ? " etc. Give a half look of sur- 
prise as you refer to the contents of the pillow-case. 

4. In a half tone of rebuke the maiden answers, 
" Let us wait," saying encouragingly that there is no 



need to borrow trouble. She evidently believes the 
parson will be quite willing to take the fee. 

5. Let your utterance become more rapid as you 
picture the bridegroom springing from the hoise. 
With uplifted, clenched hand knock on the door, 
and then portray the half fright of the parson as he 
answers the knock. 

6. Here is an opportunity for a genuine touch of hu- 
mor. Cry out as the young man would to the maiden 
by the gate, "Come in; he says he'll take the beans '" 
She jumps to the ground. Make the gesture of 
Figure 16 in Typical Gestures. 

7. Act out the effort of carrying the pillow-case 
through the open door and throwing it upon the par- 
lor floor. Do not let your facial expression be too 
serious. You should know how to smile without 
looking silly. 

8. Here again in the first line make the gesture in 
Figure 16, and with elevated pitch and joyous ex- 
pression picture the young couple as they ride away. 
With fervent tones and uplifted hands recite the last 
two lines of the piece. A good recital for a parlor 
entertainment. 



RECITATIONS AND LESSON TALKS, 



12? 



THE STATUE IN CLAY. 




* 



AKE m? a statue," said the King, 
" Of marble white as snow; 
It must be pure enough to stand 
Before my throne, at my right hand ; 
The niche is waiting. Go ! " 

The sculptor heard the King's command 

And went upon his way ; 
He had no marble, but he meant, 
With willing mind and high intent, 

To mould his thoughts in clay. 

Day after day he wrought in clay, 
But knew not what he wrought; 
He sought the help of heart and brain,, 
But could not make the riddle plain ; 
It lay beyond his thought. 

To-day the statue seemed to grow, 

To-morrow it stood still, 
The third day all went well again ; 
Thus year by year, in joy and pain, 

He served his master's will. 



.5. At last his life-long work was done; 

It was a fateful day; 
He took the statue to the King, 
And trembled like a guilty thing, 

Because it was but clay. 

6. " Where is my statue ? " asked the King 

".Here, Lord," the Sculptor said : 
"But I commanded marble." "True 
I had not that, what could I do 
But mould in clay instead ? " 

7. " Thou shalt not unrewarded go 

Since thou hast done thy best, 
Thy statue shall acceptance win, 
It shall be as it should have been, 

For I will do the rest." 

8. He touched the statue, and it changed 

The clay falls off, and lo ! 
The marble shape before him stands, 
The perfect work of heavenly hands, 

An angel, pure as snow. 



LESSON TALK. 



'The beautiful lesson taught in this selection is ap- 
parent to every one, In reciting it you have, there- 
jore, the advantage of presenting a reading that com- 
mends itself to all hearers, the sentiment of which is 
admirable. The piece will speak for itself, and there is 
a vast difference between a reading of this descrip- 
tion and one that has nothing specially to commend it. 

And here let me say something concerning your 
choice of recitations. First of all, they should be 
adapted to your range of capacity. It is simply gro- 
tesque for one to whom only tragedy is natural to at- 
tempt to recite humorous pieces. On the other hand> 
it is a great mistake for one who is expert in nothing 
but humorous selections to attempt to recite tragedy. 

The error with many readers lies in attempting to 
do that for which they are not naturally fitted. The 
selections in this volume are so diversified that you 
ought to be able to find what is especially suited to 
your ability. 

Nothing is inserted here simply because it is good 
poetry or good prose. There are thousands of read- 
ings and recitations, so called, that do not afford the 
elocutionist any opportunitv to display his powers. 



They are a dull monotony from beginning to end 
They fill the pages of the book, but nobody wants 
them. Every recitation in this volume has been 
chosen because it has some special merit and i* 
adapted to call out the powers of the reader. 

1. Taking now the recitation before us, you have 
in the first verse the King's command, which you 
should deliver in a tone of authority, extending the 
right hand on the fourth line. 

And this affords me an opportunity to say that your 
gestures should never be thrust forward or sideways 
in an angular manner, but with something approach- 
ing a curve. Do not make gestures as though you were 
a prize-fighter and were thrusting at an imaginary foe. 
Remember that the line of beauty is always the curve. 

2. This verse is narrative and requires a different 
expression from the one preceding it. Extend yout 
right hand on the second line in which it is stated 
that the sculptor went upon his way, curving your arm 
outward and then letting it fall gently by your side. 

3. In this verse the sculptor is in perplexity. He 
is trying to study out the riddle, and to express this- 
you should use Figure 22 of Typical Gestures, 



128 



RECITATIONS AND LESSON TALKS. 



4 and 5. These verses are also narrative, the only 
fhing to be noted being the trembling timidity of the 
sculptor in the last part of the 5th verse. This 
6hould be indicated by the tones of your voice and 
general manner. 

6. This is dialogue, and while the inflexions re- 
quired are those of ordinary conversation, do not let 
vour manner be too iame. 



7. Make the announcement contained in this vers* 
with evident satisfaction. The last line is emphatic 
and should be spoken with full volume. 

8. Make a pause after the word statue in the firs) 
line and recite the remainder of this line in a tone ol 
surprise. In the second line make the gesture ic 
Figure 13 of Typical Gestures. Let your facial ex 
pression indicate satisfaction. 



THE PUZZLED BOY. 




ELL— whose boy am I, any way 3 
I fell down cellar yesterday, 
And gave my head an awful bump 
(If you had only seen the lump 1) 
And Mamma called me when I cried, 
And hugged me close up to her side, 
And said : 'I'll kiss and make it well, 
Mamma's own boy ; how hard he fell. 

"When Papa took me out to play 
Where all the men were making hay, 
He put me on old Dobbin's back; 
And when they gave the whip a crack, 
And off he threw me, Papa said, 
(When I got up and rubbed my head, 
And shut my lips, and winked my eyes) 

' Papa's brave boy. He never cries I ' 



"And when I go to Grandma s — well. 
You'd be surprised if I could tell 
Of all the pies and ginger-cakes 
And doughnuts that she always mak^s, 
And all the jam and tarts and such, 
And never says, ' Don't take too much; 

'Because,' she says, ' he must enjoy 
His visit, for he's Grandma's boy ! ' 

"And Grandpa says: .'I'll give him soon 
A little pony for his own, 
He'll learn to ride it well, I know, 
Because he's Grandpa's boy. Ho ! ho J ' 
And plenty other people say: 

'Well, how are you, my boy, to-day?' 
Now, can you tell me, if you try, 
How many little boys am I? " 



LESSON TALK. 



This selection is in a lighter vein than the others 
that have gone before. It is adapted to a boy eight 
or ten years old. While the humor is not of a bois- 
terous character, the piece is very pleasing when re- 
cited by a boy who knows how to take in the situa- 
tion and can put on a look of natural surprise. 

Recitations by little people are always interesting 
to older persons. The young should be taught to re- 
cite in public. While this need not make them bold, 
t does give them confidence, which is very desirable 
tor them to have. 

Moreover, it helps them to become graceful in man- 
ner if they are properly trained, and takes away the 
awkwardness which makes many young persons ap- 
pear to a disadvantage. Added to all this the cultiva- 
tion of the memory derived from learning recitations, 
and learning them so thoroughly that they cannot be 
forgotten through any temporary embarrassment, and 
you will readily see that the noble art of elocution is 
an essential part of every young person's education. 

The selection before us is not a difficult one to re- 



cite. In the first verse emphasis should be placed 
on the word "am," and the question should be asked 
in a tone of surprise. Put your hand to your head in 
speaking of that " awful bump." 

In the next verse lift your right hand with a sud- 
den motion and use any gesture with which you can 
best indicate the cracking of the whip. When you 
come to the words " off he threw me," use the ges- 
ture in Figure 24 of Typical Gestures. Emphasize 
the word "he " in the last line. 

In verse three open your eyes in half wonder and 
put on an expressive smile as you speak of grandma's 
pies, cakes, doughnuts, tarts, etc. Make it plain that 
you enjoy your visit to grandma's. 

With elevated voice and accents of delight refer 
to the gift of the little pony in the last verse. Speak 
the first "ho 1 " rather quickly ; then prolong the 
sound on the second "ho!" In the last line the 
words " am I ? '' are emphatic. You are puzzled to 
know how many little boys you are. Pause a moment 
and look as if expecting an answer. 



RECITATIONS WITH MUSIC. 



Nothing renders a recitation more ac- 
ceptable to any audience than snatches 
of music, some of the words being sung, 
if the reader has a voice for singing. 
The change from reciting to singing should 
be made easily, and you should be fully 
confident that yott can carry through the 



part to be expressed by the notes <j| 
music, and sing the words effectively. 

This will require practice, but will repaf 
you for the time spent in preparation. Selec 
tions for song and recital combined are hen 
presented, which cannot fail to captivate your 
audience if they are skillfully rendered. 



TWICKENHAM FERRY. 

The words to be sung, or that should receive the prolonged sound indicated by the notes, are printed 
in italics. Remember you are calling to some one in the distance. 




w — a - 



1. O - hoi 


ye - ho, 


Ho 


- ye - ho, 


"Who's 


for 


the 


fer • 


■ ry? 


2. O - hoi 


ye - ho, 


Ho 


- ye - ho, 


I'm 


for 


the 


fer • 


• ry. 


3. O - hoi 


ye - ho, 


Ho, 


you're too 


late 


for 


the 


fer < 


• ry. 




HOI ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Who's for the 

ferry ? 
The briars in bud, the sun is going 
down, 
And I'll row ye so quick and I'll row ye 
so steady, 
And 'tis but a penny to Twickenham 
Town." 



The ferryman's slim and the ferryman's 

young, 
And he's just a soft twang in the turn of 
his tongue, 
And he's fresh as a pippin and brown 
as a berry, 
And 'tis but a penny to Twickenham Town. 
O-Jwi ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho. 




m 



m — « 



hoi 



ye - ho, 



Ho 



ye - ho, 



Ho 



ye - ho, 



Ho. 



"O-hoi ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Pmfor the ferry, 

The briars in bud, the sun going down, 

And it's late as it is, and I haven't a penny, 

And how shall I get me to Twickenham 

Town?" 

She'd a rose in her bonnet, and oh I she 

look'd sweet 



As the little pink flower that grows in the 
wheat, 
With her cheeks like a rose and her 
lips like a cherry, 
"And sure and you're welcome to Twick- 
enham Town." 
O-hoi ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho t Ho-ye-ho, Ho, 

128 



130 



RECITATIONS WITH iviUSL 



3. O-Jwi ye-ho, Ho, youWe too late for the 
ferry, 
The briars in bud, the sun going 
down, 
And he's not rowing quick and he's not 
rowing steady, 
You'd think 'twas a journey to Twick- 
enham Town. 



" hoi, and ho" you may call as you 

will, 
The moon is a rising on Peterham Hill, 
And with love like a rose in the stern 
of the wherry, 
There's danger in crossing to Twickenham 
Town. 
O-hoi ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho-ye-ho, Ho. 



GRANDMOTHER'S CHAIR. 

The words to be sung are printed in italics. 




|Y grandmother she, at the age of 
eighty-three, 
One day in May was taken ill 
and died ; 

And after she was dead, the will of course 
was read, 
By a lawyer as we all stood by his side. 
Five hundred dollars to my brother did she 
leave, 

r Off.. 



When you settle down in life, find some girl 
to be your wife, 
You'll find it very handy, I declare ; 
On a cold and frosty night, when the fire is 
burning bright, 
You can then sit in your old arm chair. 

What my brother said was true, for in a year 
or two, 



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And how they tit - ter'd, how they chaff 'd, How my broth -er and sis - ter laugh' d, 



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When they heard the law - yer de-clare, Gran-ny had on - ly left to me her old arm chair. 



The same unto my sister, I declare ; 
But when it came to me, the lawyer said, " I 
see 
She has left to you her old arm chair." 
And how they tittered, how they chaffed, 
How my brother and sister laughed, 
When they heard the lawyer declare 
Granny had only left to me her old arm chair. 
I thought it hardly fair, still I said I did not 
care, 
And in the evening took the chair away ; 
The neighbors they me chaffed, my brother 
at me laughed, 
And said it will be useful, John, some day; 



Strange to say, I settled down in married 
life ; 
I first a girl did court, and then the ring I 
bought, 
Took her to the church, and when she was 
my wife, 
The girl and I were just as happy as could 
be, 
For when my work was over, I declare, 
I ne'er abroad would roam, but each night 
would stay at home, 
And be seated in my old arm chair. 

One night the chair fell down; when I picked 
it up I found 



RECITATxOins WITH MUSIC. 



131 



The seat had fallen out upon the floor ; 
And there to my surprise I saw before my 
eyes, 
Ten thousand dollars tucked away, or 
more. 
When my brother heard of this, the fellow, I 
confess, 



Went nearly mad with rage, and tore his 
hair; 
But I only laughed at him, then said unto 
him, " Jem, 
Don't you wish you had the old arm 
chair?" John Read. 

[Repeat words with music."] 



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PUT YOUR SHOULDER TO THE WHEEL. 




'OME people you've met in your 
time, no doubt, 
Who never look happy or gay ; 
I'll tell you the way to get jolly and stout, 

If you'll listen awhile to my lay. 
I've come here to tell you a bit of my mind, 
And please with the same, if I can ; 



fc* 



The words to be sung are in italics. 

For there's room in this world for us all. 
" Credit refuse," if you've money to pay, 

You'll find it the wiser plan; 
And " a dollar laid by for a rainy day," 

Is a motto for every man. 
A coward gives in at the first repulse ; 

A brave man struggles again, 



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So we will sing, and ban - ish mel - an - chol - y, Trou - ble may come, we'll 



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do the best we 



can To drive care a 



way. 



for griev-ing is a 



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fol - ly, Put your shoul-der to the wheel is a mot -to for ev-'ry man. 



Advice is my song, you will certainly find, 
And a motto for every man. 

So we will sing, and banish melancholy ; 

Trouble may come, we'll do the best we can 
To drive care away, for grieving is a folly ; 

Put your shoulder to the wheel is a motto for 
ev'ry man. 

We cannot all fight in this battle of life, 

The weak must go to the wall ; 
So do to each other the thing that is rigis% 



With a resolute eye and a bounding pulse, 

To battle his way amongst men ; 
For he knows he has only one chance in h>« 
time 
To better himself, if he can ; 
" So make your hay while the sun dotb 
shine," 
That's a motto for every man. 

Harry Cliftor. 

[Repeat the part to be sung.] 



132 



RECITATIONS WITH MUSIC. 



fIRED," ah, yes, so tired, dear, the day 
has been very long, 
But shadowy gloaming draweth near, 
'tis time for the even song. 
I'm ready to go to rest at last, ready to say, 

"Goodnight;" 
The sunset glory darkens fast, to-morrow 
will bring me light 



A BRIGHTER DAY IS COMING. 

The words in italics are t be sung. 

" Tired" ah, yes, so tired, dear, I shall soundly 

sleep to-night, 
With never a dream, and never a fear, to wake 

in the morning's light. 
It has seemed so long since morning tide,( 

and I have been left so lone, 
Young, smiling faces thronged my side when 

the early sunlight shone, 



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Slug once argain, "A-bide with me," That sweet-est ev-'ning hymn, And now "Good-night, "I 

flP languidamente. 



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can -not see, The light has grown so dim. "Tir-edl"ah, yes, so tir - ed, dear! I shall 



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sound-ly sleep to-night, With nev-er a dream, and nev-er a fear, To wake in the morning's light 



Sing once again, "Abide with me" that sweetest 

evening hymn, 
And now "Good night" I cannot see, the 

light has grown so dim. 



But they grew tire long ago, and I saw them 

sink to rest, 
With folded hands and brows of snow, on the 

green earth's mother breast. 

Helen Burnside. 

\Repeat the words with music."] 



KATY'S LOVE LETTER. 

Sing the words printed in italics. 




CH, girls dear, did you ever hear, I 
wrote my love a letter, 
And although he cannot read, sure I 
thought 'twas all the better; 
For why should he be puzzled with hard 
spelling in the matter, 



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When the meaning was so plain that I love 
him faithfully? 

I love him faithfully, 
And he knows it, oh, he knows it, without one 
word from me. 



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I love him faith-ful - ly, And he knows it, oh, he knows it, with-ont one word from me. 



RECITATIONS WITH MUSIC. 



13b 



I wrote it, and I folded it, and put a seal 

upon it ; 
'Twas a seal almost as big as the crown of 

my best bonnet ; 
For I would not have the Postmaster make 

his remarks upon it, 
A.s I said inside the letter that I loved him 

faithfully, 

1 love him faithfully, 
And he knows it, oh, he knows it! without one 
word from me. 

My heart was full, but when I wrote, I dared 

not put the half in, 
The neighbors know I love him, and they're 

mighty fond of chaffing ; 
And I dared not write his name outside, for 

fear they would be laughing, 



So I wrote, " From little Kate to one whom 
she loves faithfully." 

I love him faithfully, 
And he knows it, oh, he knows it / without one 
word from me. 

Now, girls, would you believe it, that Post- 
man, so consaited, 

No answer will he bring me, so long as 1 
have waited; 

But maybe there isn't one for the raison 
that I stated, 

That my love can neither read nor write, but 
he loves me faithfully. 

He loves me faithfully \ 
And I know wherever my love is, that he is 
true to me. 

Lady Dufferin. 



DOST THOU LOVE ME, SISTER RUTH? 

A COMIC DUET. 

The persons who present this recital should appear in Quaker costume and stand near each other, fac« 
to face. It can be made very amusing. The change from reciting to singing adds greatly to the effect 
Sing the words in italics, and make appropriate gestures. 

2. Simon.- 



I. Simon. — Dost thou love me, Sister Ruth? 
Say, say, say! 
Ruth. — As I fain would speak the 
truth, 
Yea, yea, yea. 
Simon. 



-Wilt thou promise to be mine, 
Maiden fair? 
Ruth.- — Take my hand, my heart is thine, 
There, there, there. [Salutes 
her.] 



it 



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Long my heart hath yearn'd for thee, 

Let us thus the bar - gain seal, 

O, how, blest we both should, be, 

Ruth. <" 



Pret - ty Sis - ter Ruth; 
O, dear me, heigh - ho! 
Hey down, ho down hey J 






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That has been the case with me, 

Lauk! how ver - y odd I feel! 

I could al - most dance with glee. 

Simon. — Long my heart hath yearned for 
thee, 

Pretty Sister Ruth ; 
Ruth. — That has been the case with me, 

Dear engaging youth. 



Dear en - 


Sag 


- ing 


youth ! 


O, dear 


me, 


heigh 


- ho! 


Hey down, 


ho 


down 


hey! 



Simon. — Let us thus the bargain seal. 

O, dear me, heigh-ho ! 
1*hth. — Lauk ! how very odd I feel I 

O t dear me, heigh-ho I 



134 



RECITATIONS WITH MUSIC. 



3. Simon. — Love like ours can never cloy, 
Humph ! humph ! humph ! 
Ruth. — While no jealous fears annoy, 
Humph! humph! humph! 



Simon. — 0, how blessed we both should be, 
Hey down, ho down, hey ! 

Ruth. — 1 could almost dance with glee, 
Hey down, ho down, hey ! 

John Parry. 



TWO LITTLE ROGUES. 




AYS Sammy to Dick, 

" Come, hurry ! come quick ! 
And we'll do, and we'll do, and 
we'll do ! 
Our mammy's away, 
She's gone for to stay, 

And we'll make a great hullabaloo ! 
Ri too ! ri loo ! loo ! loo / loo ! loo / 
We'll make a great hullabaloo ! 



" Slide down the front stairs ! 
Tip over the chairs ! 

Now into the pantry break 
through ! 
Pull down all the tin-ware, 
And pretty things in there ! 

All aboard for a hullabaloo ! 

Ri too ! ri loo / loo ! loo ! loo ! loo / 

All aboard for a hullabaloo I 



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Ri too! ri - loo! loo! loo! loo! loo! We'll make a great hul-la-ba-loo. 
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Says Dick to Sam, 
" All weddy I am 

To do, and to do, and to do, 
But how doesth it go ? 
I so 'ittle to know, 

That, what be a hullabawoo ? 
Ri too ! ri loo I woo ! woo ! woo I woo ! 

Thay, what be a hullabawoo? " 

" Oh, slammings and hangings, 
And whingings and whangings ; 

And very bad mischief we'll do ! 
We'll clatter and shout, 
And knock things about, 

And that's what's a hullabaloo ! 
Ri too I ri loo ! loo ! loo t loo I loo / 

And that's what's a hullabaloo I 



" Now roll up the table, 
Far up as you are able, 

Chairs, sofa, big easy-chair too ! 
Put the lamps and the vases 
In funny old places. 

How's this for a hullabaloo ? 
Ri too I ri loo ! loo ! loo / loo ! loc I 

How's this for a hullabaloo ? 

" Let the dishes and pans 
Be the womans and mans ; 

Everybody keep still in their pew; 
Mammy's gown I'll get next, 
And preach you a text. 

Dick! hush with your hullabaloo! 
Ri too ! ri loo ! loo ! loo ! loo ! loo ! 

Dicky! k"ft> with your hullabaloo f 



RECITATIONS WITH MUSIC. 



13» 



As the preacher in gown 
Climbed up and looked down, 

His queer congregation to view, 
Said Dicky to Sammy, 
" Oh, dere comes our mammy ! 
She'll 'pank for dis hullubawoo ! 
Ri too I ri loo ! woo ! woo ! woo ! woo t 

She'll 'pank for dis hullabawoo I 



" O mammy ! O mammy ! " 
Cried Dicky and Sammy, 
" We'll never again, certain true!" 
But with firm step she trod 
To take down the rod — 

Oh, then came a hullabaloo ! 
Bo hoo ! bo hoo / woo ! woo ! woo / woo t 
Oh, then came a hullabaloo / 

Mrs. A. M. Diaz. 



ARKANSAW PETE'S ADVENTURE ; 

Arkansaw Pete, a frontier-backwoodsman, who sings the solo. Chorus, three lively city gentlemen. 



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136 



RECITATIONS WITH MUSIC. 




*. While riding home one Saturday night, 

Snap-poo ! 
I passed Miss Smith's and thought I'd light, 

Snap-poo ! 
So I hitch'd my hoss and in did go, 
Just for to spend an hour or so. 

Chorus {marching up and down, and snap- 
ping fingers at Pete). 
Snap-poo ! Snap-Peter ! 
Fi-lan-thi-go-shee-ter ! 

Snap-poo ! {Repeat chorus^) 

3. When to the door I had safely got, 

Snap-poo ! 
She came and pok'd her sweet head out, 

Snap-poo ! 
Said she right out, "Why, Mister Pete! 
Oh, do walk in and have a seat ! " 

(Chorus.) 

4. With easy step and a jolly heart. 

Snap-poo ! 
I bounded in just like a dart, 

Snap-poo ! 
And, oh, you may bet, I felt all hunk 
When into a chair by her I sunk. (Chorus. ) 

5. Our chairs got closer as we two rock'd, 

Snap-poo ! 
My throat swell'd up till I most chok'd, 

Snap-poo ! 
At length they struck, and came to a stop — 
Now, now, thinks I, 's the time to "pop ! " 

(Chorus.) 

6. I tried to look in her love-lit eyes, 

Snap-poo ! 
They were clear and blue as summer skies, 
Snap-poo I 



Not a word could I speak — alas ! poor Pete! 
Though she look'd good enough to eat. 

(Chorus.) 

7. I look'd at her, and she look'd at me, 

Snap-poo ! 
I heard my heart say pee-dee-dee, 

Snap-poo ! 
I twisted my chair, and cross'd my feet— 
I'd never seen anything half so sweet. 

(Chorus.) 

8. My tongue grew thick, and my eyes stuck 

out, 

Snap-poo ! 
My hands flew nervously about, 

Snap-poo ! 
And, before I could their motion check, 
They grabb'd that gal right 'round the 
neck ! (Chorus.) 

9. She haul'd away with her pretty fist, 
Snap-poo ! 
She gave my jaw an awful twist, 

Snap-poo ! 
It seem'd an hour before I spoke — 
I thought by gum, my head was broke I 

(Chorus.) 

10. The racket we made brought her ma-ma, 
Snap-poo ! 
Who straightway call'd her great pa-pa, 

Snap-poo ! 
He kicked me out — and, you bet, I fled. 
That gal won't do, thinks I, to wed I 

(Chorus.) 



Patriotic Recitations. 



-^••**>-~£#- 



THE BEAT OF THE DRUM AT DAYBREAK. 

apeak the words in italics with full, earnest tones of command. Then change easily to a manna 
suited to animated description. An excellent selection for one who can make these changes effectively. 



(•) I HE morning is cheery, my boys, arouse ! 

< I The dew shines bright on the chestnut 

-*- boughs, 

And the sleepy mist on the river lies, 
Though the east is flushing with crimson dyes. 

Awake/ awake/ awake/ 

O'er field and wood and brake, 

With glories newly born, 

Comes on the blushing morn. 
Awake/ awake/ 



You 



homes and your 



have dreamed of your 

friends all night ; 
You have basked in your sweethearts' smiles so 

bright : 
Come, part with them all for a while again— 
Be lovers in dreams ; when awake, be men. 



Turn out / turn out I turn out / 
You have dreamed full long I know, 

Turn out I turn out / turn out I 
The east is all aglow. 
Turn out / turn out / 

From every valley and hill there come 
The clamoring voices of fife and drum j 
And out on the fresh, cool morning air 
The soldiers are swarming everywhere. 
Fall in / fall in / fall in ! 
Every man in his place. 
Fall in ! fall in ! fall in ! 
Each with a cheerful face. 
Fall in ! fall in t 

Michael O'Connor. 



THE CAVALRY CHARGE. 

Admirably suited to rapid utterance, vivid description and full tones on an elevated key. 
the last lines as you would if you saw the enemy routed on the field of battle. 



Hurrah » 




ITH bray of the trumpet 
And roll of the drum, 
And keen ring of bugles, 
The cavalry come, 
Sharp clank the steel scabbards, 

The bridle-chains ring, 

And foam from red nostrils 

The wild chargers fling. 

Tramp ! tramp ! o'er the green sward 

That quivers below, 
Scarce held by the curb-bit, 

The fierce horses go ! 
And the grim-visaged colonel 

With ear-rending shout, 



Peals forth to the squadrons, 
The order—" Trot out." 

One hand on the sabre, 

And one on the rein, 
The troopers move forward 

In line on the plain. 
As rings the word " Gallop ! " 

The steel scabbards clank, 
And each rowel is pressed 

To a horse's hot flank : 
And swift is their rush 

As the wild torrent's flow, 
When it pours from the crag 

On the valley below. 

137 



Ida 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



44 Charge I " thunders the leader. 

Like shaft from the bow 
Each mad horse is hurled 

On the wavering foe. 
A thousand bright sabres 

Are gleaming in air ; 
A thousand dark horses 

Are dashed on the square. 

Resistless and reckless 

Of aught may betide, 
Like demons, not mortals, 

The wild troopers ride. 
Cut right ! and cut left ! 

For the parry who needs ? 
The bayonets shiver 

Like wind-shattered reeds I 



Vain — vain the red volley 

That bursts from the square- 
The random-shot bullets 

Are wasted in air. 
Triumphant, remorseless, 

Unerring as death, — 
No sabre that's stainless 

Returns to its sheath. 

The wounds that are deak 

By that murderous steel 
Will never yield case 

For the surgeons to heal 
Hurrah ! they are broken — 

Hurrah ! boys, they fly — 
None linger save those 

Who but linger to die. 



THE GREAT NAVAL BATTLE OF SANTIAGO. 

Hold your body erect, but not awkwardly stiff, let every nerve be tense, your voice full and round, and 
let your manner indicate that you have a grand story to relate, as you recite Admiral Schley's thrilling 
description of the great naval battle at Santiago. You are depicting the scene as though you were there 
and yourself won the brilliant victory. 




NE hour before the Spaniards ap- 
peared my quartermaster on the 
Brooklyn reported to me that Cer- 
vera's fleet was coaling up. This was just 
what I expected, and we prepared everything 
for a hot reception. Away over the hills 
great clouds of smoke could be faintly seen 
rising up to the sky. A little later and the 
smoke began to move towards the mouth of 
the harbor. The black cloud wound in and 
out along the narrow channel, and every eye 
on board the vessels in our fleet strained 
with expectation. 

The sailor boys were silent for a full hour 
and the grim old vessels lay back like tigers 
waiting to pounce upon their prey. Sud- 
denly the whole Spanish fleet shot out of the 
mouth of the channel. It was the grandest 
spectacle I ever witnessed. The flames were 
pouring out of the funnels, and as it left the 
channel the fleet opened fire w'th every gun 



on board. Their guns were worked as rap- 
idly as possible, and shells were raining 
around like hail. 

It was a grand charge. My first impres- 
sion was that of a lot of maddened bulls, 
goaded to desperation, dashing at their tor- 
mentors. The storm of projectiles and shells 
was the hottest imaginable. I wondered 
where they all came from. Just as the ves- 
sels swung around the Brooklyn opened up 
with three shells, and almost simultaneously 
the rest of the fleet fired. Our volley was a 
terrible shock to the Spaniards, and so sur- 
prised them that they must have been badljf 
rattled. 

When our fleet swung around and gave 
chase, we not only had to face the fire from 
the vessels, but were bothered by a cross> 
fire from the forts on either side, which 
opened on our fleet as soon as the Span- 
iards shot out of the harbor. The engage- 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



139 



ment lasted three hours, but I hardly knew 
what time was. I remember crashing holes 
through the Spanish Admiral's flagship, the 
Maria Teresa, and giving chase to the Colon. 

I was on the bridge of the Brooklyn 
during the whole engagement, and at times 
the smoke was so dense that I could not see 
three yards ahead of me. The shells from 
the enemy's fleet were whistling around and 
bursting everywhere, except where they 
could do some damage. I seemed to be the 
only thing on the vessel not protected by 
heavy armor, and oh ! how I would have 
liked to get behind some of that armor ! 

I don't know how I kept my head, but I 
do know that I surprised myself by seeing 
and knowing all that was going on, and I 
could hear my voice giving orders to do just 
what my head thought was right, while my 
heart was trying to get beneath the shelter of 
the armored deck. How do I account for 



such a victory with so little loss? That 
would mean how do I account for the rain 
of Spanish shell not doing more execution ? 
They fought nobly and desperately, but they 
were not a match for our Yankee officers 
and sailors. 

I was proud of the boys in our fleet during 
that engagement. They knew just what 
their guns could do, and not one shot was 
wasted. Their conduct was wonderful. It 
was inspiring. It was magnificent. Men 
who can stand behind big guns and face a 
black storm of shells and projectiles as coolly 
as though nothing was occurring ; men who 
could laugh because a shell had missed hit- 
ting them ; men who could bet one another 
on shots and lay odds in the midst of the 
horrible crashing ; men who could not 
realize that they were in danger — such men 
are wonders, and we have a whole navy of 
wonders. Admiral W. S. Schley. 



HOBSON'S DARING DEED. 

Let ycur tones of voice be strong and bold, not boisterous, and give to the most spirited lin«s full force. 
Vou are depicting a daring deed, and it must not be done in a weak, timid, hesitating way, but with strong 
utterance and emphasis. The sinking of the steam collier Merrimac was a famous exploit. 



f BLUNDER peal and roar and rattle of the 
ships in line of battle, 
Rumbling noise of steel volcanoes hurl- 
ing metal from the shore, 
Drowned the sound of quiet speaking and the 
creaking, creaking, creaking 
Of the steering-gear that turned her toward 
the narrow harbor door. 

On the hulk was calm and quiet, deeper for the 
shoreward riot ; 
Dumb they watched the fountain streaming; 
mute they heard the waters hiss, 
Till one laughed and murmured, " Surely it was 
worth while rising eai'lf 
For a fireworks exhibition t r such character as 
this." 



Down the channel the propeller drove her as 
they tried to shell her 
From the drizzy heights of Morro and Socapa 
parapet ; 
She was torn and she was battered, and her upper 
works were shattered 
By the bursting of the missiles that in aix 
above her met. 

Parallels of belching cannon marked the winding 
course she ran on, 
And they flashed through morning darknes* 
like a giant's flaming teeth ; 
Waters steaming, boiling, churning; rows of 
muzzles at each turning ; 
Mines like geysers spouting after and befor# 
her and beneath. 



140 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



Not a man was there who faltered ; not a theory , And they won. But greater glory tnan the wlw 



was altered 
Of the detailed plan agreed on — not 9 doubt 

was there expressed ; 
This was not a time for changing, deviating, 

re-arranging ; 
L*t the great God help the wounded, and 

their courage save the rest. 



ning is the story 
Of the foeman's friendly greeting of that 

valiant captive band ; 
Speech of his they understood not, talk to him 

in words they could not ; 
But their courage spoke a language that all 

men might understand. 



GENERAL WHEELER AT SANTIAGO. 

"Fighting Joe," as he was familiarly called, was one of the most conspicuous and heroic figures 
in the battles fought around Santiago. Recite this tribute to the hero with feeling, and show by looks, 
tone, and gestures that you appreciate the patriotism and valor of the famous commander of cavalry. 



fNTO the thick of the fight he went, pallid 
and sick and wan, 
Borne in an ambulance to the front, a 
ghostly wisp of a man ; 
But the fighting soul of a fighting man, approved 

in the long ago, 
Went to the front in that ambulance, and the 
body of Fighting Joe. 

Out from the front they were coming back, smit- 
ten of Spanish shells — 

Wounded boys from the Vermont Hills and the 
Alabama dells j 

" Put them into this ambulance ; I'll ride to the 
front," he said, 

And he climbed to the saddle and rode right on, 
that little old ex-Confed. 

From end to end of the long blue ranks rose up 

the ringing cheers, 
And many a powder-blackened face was furrowed 

with sudden tears, 



As with flashing eyes and gleaming sword, and 

hair and beard of snow, 
Into the hell of shot and shell rode little old 

Fighting Joe ! 

Sick with fever and racked with pain, he could 

not stay away, 
For he heard the song of the yester-years in the 

deep-mouthed cannon's bay — 
He heard in the calling song of the guns there 

was work for him to do, 
Where his country's best blood splashed and 

flowed 'round the old Red, White and Blue. 

Fevered body and hero heart 1 This Union's 

heart to you 
Beats out in love and reverence — and to each 

dear boy in blue 
Who stood or fell 'mid the shot and shell, and 

cheered in the face of the foe, 
As, wan and white, to the heart of the fight rode 

little old Fighting Joe ! 

James Lindsay Gordon 




*ATS off! 

Along the street there comes 
A blare of bugles, a ruffle of drums, 
A flash of color beneath the sky: 
Hats off! 
The flag is passing by ! 
Blue and crimson and white it shines 



THE FLAG GOES BY. 

Over the steel-tipped, ordered lines, 

Hats off! 
The colors before us fly ! 
But more than the flag is passing by, 
Sea-fights and land-fights grim and great 
Fought to make and to save the state ; 
Cheers of victory on dying \ irM • 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



14. 



Weary marches and sinking ships; 
Days of plenty and years of peace 
March of a strong land's swift increase ; 
Equal justice, right and law, 
Stately honor and reverend awe ; 



Sign of a nation great and strong, 
To ward her people from foreign wrong ; 
Pride and glory and honor, all 
Live in the colors to stand or fall. 
Hats off I 



IN MANILA BAY. 

A graphic description of the great naval battle of Manila and Admiral Dewey's overwhelming victory. 
Unless this recital is delivered in an animated, exultant manner, and with great oratorical force, the grand 
power of the description will be weakened, if not entirely lost. Put your whole soul into it. 




N the broad Manila Bay 
The Spanish cruisers lay, 

In the shelter of their forts upon 
the shore ; 
And they dared their foes to sail 
Through the crashing iron hail 

Which the guns from decks and battlements 
would pour. 

All the harbor ways were missed, 
And along the channel blind 

Slept the wild torpedoes, dreaming dreams 
of wrath. 
Yea ! the fiery hates of hell 
Lay beneath the ocean's swell, 
Like a thousand demons ambushed in the 
path. 

Breasting fierce Pacific gales, 
Lo ! a little squadron sails, 

And the Stars and Stripes are noating from 
its spars. 
It is friendless and alone, 
Aids and allies it has none, 

But a dauntless chorus sings its dauntless 
tars : 

"We're ten thousand miles from home; 
Ocean's wastes and wave and foam 

Shut us from the land we love so far away. 
We have ne'er a friendly port 
For retreat as last resort, 
But we'll beard the ships of Spain in their 
own bay. 

"They have mines beneath the sea, 
They have forts upon their lee, 



They have everything to aid them in the 
fray; 
But we'll brave their hidden mines, 
And we'll face their blazing lines; 

Yes ! We'll beard the ships of Spain is 
their own bay. 

'If we're worsted in the fight, 
We shall perish in the right — 

No hand will wipe the dews of death away. 
The wounded none will tend, 
For we've not a single friend ; 

But we'll beard the ships of Spain in ther 
own bay. 

1 No ironclads we sail, 
Only cruisers light and frail, 

With no armor plates to turn the shells 
away. 
All the battleships now steer 
In another hemisphere, 

But we'll beard the ships of Spain in their 
own bay. 
' Ho ! Remember now the Maine ! 
Up ! And smite the ships of Spain 1 

Let them not forget for years this first of 
May ! 
Though hell blaze up from beneath, 
Forward through the cannon's breath, 
When Dewey leads into Manila Bay." 

There, half-way round the world, 

Swift and straight the shots were hurled, 

And a handful of bold sailors won the day. 
Never since earth was begun 
Has a braver deed been done 

Than when Dewey sailed into Manila Bay. 



142 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



God made for him a path 
Through the mad torpedoes' wrath, 

From their slumbers never wakened into 
play. 
When dawn smote the east with gold, 
Spaniards started to behold 

Dewey and his gallant fleet within ther bay. 

Then from forts and warships first 
Iron maledictions burst, 

And the guns with tongues of flame began 
to pray ; 
Like demons out of hell 
The batteries roar and yell, 

While Dewey answers back across the bay. 



O Gods ! it was a sight, 

Till the smoke, as black as night, 

Hid the fire-belching ships from light of day. 
When it lifted from the tide, 
Smitten low was Spanish pride, 

And Dewey was the master of their bay. 

Where the awful conflict roared, 
And red blood in torrents poured, 

There the Stars and Stripes are waving high 
to-day. 
Dewey ! Hero strong and grand ! 
Shout his name through every land ! 

For he sunk the ships of Spain in their own 
bay. Charles Wadsworth, ]k 



~&~»~& 



Wi 



MY SOLDIER BOY. 



HEN night comes on, when morning 
breaks, they rise, 
Those earnest prayers by faithful lips 
oft said, 
And pierce the blue which shrouds the inner skies : 
"God guard my boy; God grant he is not 
dead ! " 
" My soldier boy — where is he camped to-night? ' 
" God guard him waking, sleeping or in fight ! " 

Far, far away where tropic suns cast down 

Their scorr.hine rays, where sultry damp airs rise 



And haunting breath of sickness holds its own, 

A homesick boy, sore wounded, suffering Jies. 
" Mother ! Mother ! " is his ceaseless cry. 
" Come, mother, come, and see me ere I die ! " 

Where is war's glory? Ask the trumpet's blare, 
The marching columns run to bitter strife ; 

Ask of the raw recruit who knows as yet 

Naught of its horrors, naught of its loss of life ; 

Ask not the mother ; weeping for her son, 

She knows the heart-aches following victories 
won. 



THE YANKEES IN BATTLE. 



'OR courage and dash there is no par 
allel in history to this action of the 
Spanish Admiral. He came, as he 
knew, to absolute destruction. There was 
»ne single hope. That was that the Spanish 
ihip Cristobal Colon would steam faster than 
the American ship Brooklyn. The spectacle 
of two torpedo-boat destroyers, paper shells 
jt best, deliberately steaming out in broad 
daylight in the face of the fire of battleships 
ean only be described in one way. It was 
Spanish, and it was ordered by the Spanish 



General Blanco. The same may be said of 
the entire movement. 

In contrast to the Spanish fashion was the 
cool, deliberate Yankee work. The Ameri- 
can squadron was without sentiment appa- 
rently. The ships went at their Spanish 
opponents and literally tore them to pieces. 
Admiral Cervera was taken aboard the Iowa 
from the Gloucester, which had rescued him, 
and he was received with a full Admiral's 
guard. The crew of the Iowa crowded aft 
over the turrets, half naked and black with 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



143 



powder, as Cervera stepped over the side 
bareheaded. The crew cheered vociferously. 
The Admiral submitted to the fortunes of 
war with a grace that proclaimed him a 
thoroughbred. 

The officers of the Spanish ship Vizcaya 
said they simply could not hold their crews 
at the guns on account of the rapid fire 
poured upon them. The decks were flooded 
with water from the fire hose, and the blood 
from the wounded made this a dark red. 
Fragments of bodies floated in this along 
the gun deck. Every instant the crack of 
exploding shells told of new havoc. 

The torpedo boat Ericsson was sent by 
the flagship to the help of the Iowa in the 
rescue of the Vizcaya's crew. Her men saw 
a terrible sight. The flames, leaping out 
irom the huge shot holes in the Vizcaya's 
sides, licked up the decks, sizzling the flesh 
of the wounded who were lying there 
shrieking for help. Between the frequent ex- 
plosions there came awful cries and groans 
«rom the men pinned in below. This car- 
nage was chiefly due to the rapidity of the 
American fire. 



From two 6-pounders 400 shells were fired 
in fifty minutes. Up in the tops the ma- 
rines banged away with I -pounders, too ex- 
cited to step back to duck as the shells 
whistled over them. One gunner of a sec- 
ondary battery under a 1 2-inch gun was 
blinded by smoke and saltpetre from the 
turret, and his crew were driven off, but 
sticking a wet handkerchief over his face, 
with holes cut for his eyes, he stuck to his 
gun. 

Finally, as the 6-pounders were so close 
to the 8-inch turret as to make it impossi- 
ble to stay there with safety, the men were 
ordered away before the big gun was fired, 
but they refused to leave. When the 3-inch 
gun was fired, the concussion blew two 
men of the smaller gun's crew ten feet 
from their guns and threw them to the 
deck as deaf as posts. Back they went 
again, however, and were again blown away, 
and finally had to be dragged away from 
their stations. Such bravery and such dog- 
ged determination under the heavy fire were 
of frequent occurrence on all the ships en- 
gaged. Captain R. D. Evans. 



■» ' ^~» @^ , ^@«=-r-*- 



THE BANNER BETSEY MADE. 

The first American flag, including the thirteen stars and stripes, was made by Mrs. Betsey Ross, a 
Quaker lady of Philadelphia. Recite these lines in an easy, conversational manner, yet with animation. 
In this and similar recitations never let your voice sink down into your throat, as if you were just ready to 
faint away. Your delivery should never be dull, least of all in patriotic pieces. 




E have nicknamed it " Old Glory" 
As it floats upon the breeze, 
Rich in legend, song and story 
On the land and on the seas ; 
Far above the shining river, 

Over mountain, glen and glade 
With a fame that lives forever 
Streams the banner Betsey made. 

Once it went from her, its maker, 
To the glory of the wars, 



Once the modest little Quaker 
Deftly studded it with stars ; 

And her fingers, swiftly flying 

Through the sunshine and the shade, 

Welded colors bright, undying, 
In the banner Betsey made. 

When at last her needle rested 
And her cherished work was done 

Went the banner, love invested, 
To the camps of Washington ; 



144 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



And the glorious continentals 
In the morning light arrayeJ 

Stood in ragged regimentals 
'Neath the banner Betsey made. 

How they cheered it and its maker, 

They the gallant sons of Mars, 
How they blessed the little Quaker 

And her flag of stripes and stars j 
'Neath its folds, the foemen scorning, 

Glinted bayonets and blade, 
And the breezes of the morning 

Kissed the banner Betsey made. 

Years have passed, but still in glory 
With a pride we love to see, 

Laureled with a nation's glory 
Waves the emblem of the free j 

From the rugged pines of Northland 
To the deep'ning everglade, 



In the sunny heart of Southland 
Floats the banner Betsey made. 

A protector all have found it 

And beneath it stands no slave, 
Freemen brave have died around it 

On the land and on the wave; 
In the foremost front of battle 

Borne by heroes not afraid, 
'Mid the musket's rapid rattle, 

Soared the banner Betsey made. 

Now she sleeps whose fingers flying 

With a heart to freedom true 
Mingled colors bright, undying — 

Fashioned stars and field of blue ; 
It will lack for no defenders 

When the nation's foes invade, 
For our country ose to splendoi 

'Neath the banner Betsey made. 

T. C. Harbaugh. 



OUR 

k OW can the world once more the glory see 
Of this our flag, emblem of liberty. 
: ^ Now can the tyrant quake with direst 

fear 
As o'er his land our banners shall appear. 

No selfish aim shall lead our flag astray, 

No base desire shall point our banner's way; 

Each star has told a tale of noble deed, 

Each stripe shall mean from strife a nation free. 

Our glorious past when first with thirteen stars 
On field of blue with white and bright red bars, 
Our flag led on in battle's fierce array, 
And freed the land from mighty Britain's sway. 



FLAG. 

And since this time when first it was unfurled, 
Our flag has proved the noblest in the world. 
From Cuba's shore out to Manila Bay 
Its mighty folds protecting fly to-day. 

Beneath this flag with patriotic pride 
For freedom's cause great men have gladly died 
Our noblest sons beneath its folds so free 
In conflict died for Cuba's liberty. 

Float on, dear flag, our nation's greatest joy, 
Thy starry folds no despot shall destroy; 
Stretch out thy arms till war forever cease, 
And all the world is universal peace. 

Chas. F. Alsop. 



r==a>©3J£S)«=»r-*- 



THAT STARRY 

GJaTNFURL the starry banner, 
aJJ Till with loving eyes we view 
V~|jL The stars and stripes we honor 

And the folds of azure blue. 

'Tis the pride of all our nation 
And the emblem of its powers — 



FLAG OF OURS. 

The gem of all creation 
Is that starry flag of ours. 

Then raise aloft " Old Glory," 
And its colors bright surround, 

In battle fierce and gory, 

Or in peace with nonor bound. 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



146 



Let it float from spire and steeple, 
And from house-tops, masts and towers, 

For the banner of the people 
Is that starry flag of ours. 

Now, behold it, bright and peejiess, 
In the light of freedom's sky; 



See its colors floating, fearless 
As the eagle soaring high. 

And amid the cannon's rattle 
And the bullets' deadly showers, 

Ten million men will battle 
For that starry flag of ours. 



THE NEGRO SOLDIER. 

In reciting this piece give stress and emphasis to the words, " the Tenth at La Quasina." You are 
praising the valor of this regiment, and should not do it in a doubtful or hesitating manner. 




E used to think the negro didn't count 

for very much — 
Light-fingered in the melon patch, and 
chicken yard, and such ; 
Much mixed in point of morals and absurd in 

point of dress, 
The butt of droll cartoonists and the target of 

the press ; 
But we've got to reconstruct our views on color, 
more or less, 
Now we know about the Tenth at La 
Quasina ! 
When a rain of shot was falling, with a song 

upon his lips, 
In the horror where such gallant lives went out 

in death's eclipse, 
Face to face with Spanish bullets, on the slope 
of San Juan, 



The negro soldier showed himself another type 

of man ; 
Read the story of his courage, coldly, carelessly, 

who can — 

The story of the Tenth at La Quasina I 

We have heaped the Cuban soil above their 

bodies, black and white — 
The strangely sorted comrades of that grand and 

glorious fight — 
And many a fair-skinned volunteer goes whole 

and sound to-day 
For the succor of the colored troops, the battle 

records say, 
And the feud is done forever, of the blue coat 

and the gray — 

All honor to the Tenth at La Quasina ! 

B. M. Channing. 



^e 



DEEDS OF VALOR AT SANTIAGO, 

To be delivered with full, ringing tones. You are an exultant patriot, picturing the glorious deeds of 
our American army. This selection affords opportunity for very effective gestures. 




HO cries that the days of daring are 
those that are faded far, 
That never a light burns planet-bright 
to be hailed as the hero's star? 
Let the deeds of the dead be laureled, the brave 

of the elder years, 
But a song, we say, for the men of to-day who 
have proved themselves their peers ! 

High in the vault of the tropic sky is the garish 
eye of the sun, 

(IO-X) 



And down with its crown of guns a-frown looks 

the hill-top to be won; 
There is the trench where the Spaniard lurks, 

his hold and his hiding-place, 
And he who would cross the space between must 

meet death face to face. 

The black mouths belch and thunder, and the 

shrapnel shrieks and flies ; 
Where are the fain and the fearless, the lads with 

the dauntless eyes ? 



146 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



Will the moment find them wanting ! Nay, but 

with valor stirred ! 
Like the leashed hound on the coursing-ground 

they wait but the warning word. 

"Charge!" and the line moves forward, moves 

with a shout and a swing, 
While sharper far than the cactus-thorn is the 

spiteful bullet's sting. 
Now they are out in the open, and now they are 

breasting the slope, 
While into the eyes of death they gaze as into the 

eyes of hope. 

Never they wait nor waver, but on they clamber 
and on, 



With " Up with the flag of the stripes and stars, 
and down with the flag of the Don!" 

What should they bear through the shot-rent air 
but rout to the ranks of Spain, 

For the blood that throbs in their hearts is the 
blood of the boys of Anthony Wayne ! 

See, they have taken the trenches! Where are 

the foemen ? Gone ! 
And now ' ' Old Glory ' ' waves in the breeze from 

the heights of San Juan ! 
And so, while the dead are laureled, the brave of 

the elder years, 
A song, we say, for the men of to-day who have 

proved themselves their peers ! 

Clinton Scollakd. 



A RACE FOR DEAR LIFE. 



(•) I HE battleships Brooklyn, Oregon and 
1 I Texas pushed ahead after the Spanish 
ships Colon and Almirante Oquendo, 
which were now running the race of their 
lives along the coast. When Admiral Cer- 
vera's flagship, the Almirante Oquendo, sud- 
denly headed in shore, she had the Brooklyn 
and Oregon abeam and the Texas astern. 
The Brooklyn and Oregon pushed on after 
the Cristobal Colon, which was making fine 
time, and which looked as if she might es- 
cape, leaving the Texas to finish the Almi- 
rante Oquendo. This work did not take 
long. The Spanish ship was already burn- 
ing. Just as the Texas got abeam of her 
she was shaken by a loud and mighty ex- 
plosion. 

The crew of the Texas started to cheer. 
" Don't cheer, because the poor devils are 
dying !" called Captain Philip, and the Texas 
left the Almirante Oquendo to her fate to 
Join in the chase of the Cristobal Colon. 

That ship, in desperation, was ploughing 
the waters at a rate that caused the fast 
Brooklyn trouble. The Oregon made great 
speed for a battleship, and the Texas made 



the effort of her life. Never since her trial 
trip had she made such time. The Brooklyn 
might have proved a match to the Cristobal 
Colon in speed, but was not supposed to be 
her match in strength. 

It would never do to allow even one of the 
Spanish ships to get away. Straight into the 
west the strongest chase of modern times 
took place. The Brooklyn headed the pur- 
suers. She stood well out from the shore 
in order to try to cut off the Cristobal Colon 
at a point jutting out into the se«. far ahead. 
The Oregon kept a middle course about a 
mile from the cruiser. The Desperate Don 
ran close along the shore, and now and then 
he threw a shell of defiance. The old Texas 
kept well up in the chase under forced 
draught for over two hours. 

The fleet Spaniard led the Americans a 
merry chase, but she had no chance. The 
Brooklyn gradually forged ahead, so that 
the escape of the Cristobal Colon was cut off. 
The Oregon was abeam of the Colon then, 
and the gallant Don gave it up. He headed 
6»r the shore, and five minutes later down 
came the Spanish flag. None of our ship* 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



14T 



were then within a mile of her, but her es- 
cape was cut off. The Texas, Oregon and 
Brooklyn closed in on her, and stopped their 
engines a few hundred yards away. 

With the capture of the Cristobal Colon 



the battle was ended, and there was great victory." 



rejoicing on all our ships. Meantime the 
New York, with Admiral Sampson on 
board, and the Vixen were coming up on 
the run. Commodore Schley signalled to 
Admiral Sampson : " We have won a great 



PATRIOTISM OF AMERICAN WOMEN. 



fHE maid who binds her warrior's sash 
With smile that well her pain dissembles, 
The while beneath her diooping lash 
One starry tear- drop hangs and trembles, 
Though heaven alone records the tear, 

And fame shall never know her story, 
Her heart has shed a drop as dear 
As e'er bedewed the field of glory ! 

The wife who girds her husband's sword, 
Mid little ones who weep or wonder, 

And bravely speaks the cheering word, 
What though her heart be rent asunder, 



Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear 
The bolts of death around him rattle, 

Hath shed as sacred blood as e'er 
Was poured upon the field of battle ! 

The mother who conceals her grief 

While to her breast her son she presses, 
Then breathes a few brave words and brief, 

Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, 
With no one but her secret God 

To know the pain that weighs upon her 
Sheds holy blood as e'er the sod 

Received on Freedom's field of honor ! 
Thomas Buchanan P.eae. 



^ 



■o-$>o» 



OUR COUNTRY'S CALL. 



There is a strain of gladness, a tone of rejoicing in this selection, which requires a spirited de 
livery and full volume of voice. Patriotic emotions should always be expressed in an exultant 
joyous manner by voice, attitude and gestures. 



(9 I HE clouds grew dark as the people paused, 
< I A people of peace and toil, 

-*- And there came a cry from all the sky : 
" Come, children of mart and soil, 

Your mother needs you — hear her voice ; 
Though she has not a son to spare, 

She has spoken the word that ye all have heard, 
Come, answer ye everywhere ! " 

They need no urging to stir them on. 

They yearn for no battle cry ; 
At the word that their country calls for men 
They throw down hammer and scythe and pen, 

And are ready to serve and die ! 
From the North, from the South, from East, from 
West, 

Hear the thrill of the rumbling drum 1 



Under one flag they march along, 
With their voices swelling a single song, 

Here they come, they come, thty corne ! 
List ! the North men cheer the men from the Souti 

And the South returns the cheer ; 
There is no question of East or West, 
For hearts are a-tune in every breast, 

'Tis a nation answering here. 

It is elbow to elbow and knee to knee, 

One land for each and for all, 
And the veterans' eyes see their children rise 

To answer their country's call. 
They have not forgotten — God grant not so ! 

(Ah, we know of the graves on the hill.) 
But these eager feet make the old hearts beat, 

And the old eyes dim and fill 1 



148 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



The Past sweeps out, and the Present comes — 

A Present that all have wrought ! 
And the sons of these sires, at the same camp- 
fires, 
Cheer one flag where their fathers fought ! 
Yes, we know of the graves on the Southern 
hills 
That are filled with the Blue and the Gray. 



We know how they fought and how th«y •died, 
We honor them both there side by side, 

And they're brothers again to-day. 
Brothers again — thank God on high ! 

(Here's a hand-clasp all around.) 
The sons of one race now take their place 

On one common and holy ground. 

Richard Barry. 



w 



THE STORY OF SEVENTY=SIX. 



HAT heroes from the woodland sprung, 
When, through the fresh awakened 
land, 

The thrilling cry of freedom rung, 
And to the work of warfare strung 
The yeoman's iron hand 1 

Hills flung the cry to hills around, 
And ocean-mart replied to mart, 
And streams, whose springs were yet unfound, 
Pealed far away the startling sound 
Into the forest's heart. 

Then marched the brave from rocky steep, 

From mountain river swift and cold ; 
The borders of the stormy deep, 
The vales where gathered waters sleep, 
Sent up the strong and bold — 

As if the very earth again 

Grew quick with God's creating breath, 



And, from the sods of grove and glen, 
Rose ranks of lion-hearted men 
To battle to the death. 

The wife, whose babe first smiled that day, 

The fair fond bride of yestereve, 
And aged sire and matron gray, 
Saw the loved warriors haste away, 
And deemed it sin to grieve. 

Already had the strife begun; 

Already blood on Concord's plain 
Along the springing grass had run, 
And blood had flowed at Lexington, 

Like brooks of April rain. 

That death-stain on the vernal sward 
Hallowed to freedom all the shore; 

In fragments fell the yoke abhorred — 

The footstep of a foreign lord 
Profaned the soil no more. 

W. C. Bryant. 



THE ROLL CALL. 

Speak the names of persons in this recitation, exactly as you would if you were the orderly 
calling the roll, or the private in the ranks who is answering. The general character of the se- 
lection is pathetic ; recite it with subdued and tender force. 
(( 



>ORPORAL GREEN!" the orderly 
cried ; 

Here ! " was the answer, loud 
and clear, 

From the lips of a soldier who stood near, 
And " Here ! " was the word the next replied. 



' T^tORPOR 



w Cyrus Drew ! " — then a silence fell — 
Thi» time no answer followed the call ; 



Only his rear man had seen him fall, 
Killed or wounded he could not tell. 

There they stood in the falling light, 

These men of battle, with grave, dark looks, 
As plain to be read as open books, 

While slowly gathered the shades of night. 

The fern on the hill-side was splashed with blood, 
And down in the corn where the poppies grew, 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



149 



Were redder stains than the poppies knew j 
And crimson dyed was the river's flood. 

For the foe had crossed from the other side, 
That day in the face of a murderous fire, 
That swept them down in its terrible ire ; 

And their life-blood went to color the tide. 

" Herbert Kline ! " At the call, there came 
Two stalwart soldiers into the line, 
Bearing between them this Herbert Kline, 

Wounded and bleeding to answer his name. 

" Ezra Kerr ! " — and a voice answered " Here ! " 
" Hiram Kerr! " — but no man replied. 
They were brothers, these two, the sad wind 
sighed, 

And a shudder crept through the cornfield near. 



" Ephraim Deane ! " — then a soldier spoke j 
"Deane carried our Regiment's colors," he 

said; 
"Where our Ensign was shot, I left him 
dead, 
Just after the enemy wavered and broke. 

" Close to the roadside his body lies. 

I paused a moment and gave him a drink. 

He murmured his mother's name I think, 
And death came with it and closed his eyes." 

'Twas a victory ; yes, but it cost us dear — 
For that company's roll, when called at 

night, 
Of a hundred men who went into the fight 

The number was few that answered " Here 1 " 



THE BATTLE-FIELD. 

This striking poem is an American classic. Two lines alone, if there were no others, are enough to 
give it immortal fame : 

" Truth crushed to earth, shall rise again ; 
The eternal years of God are hers.'' 




NCE this soft turf, this rivulet's sands, 
Were trampled by a hurrying crowd, 
And fiery hearts and armed hands 
Encountered in the battle cloud. 



Ah ! never shall the land forget 

How gushed the life-blood of her brave, 
Gushed, warm with hope and courage yet, 

Upon the soil they sought to save. 

Now all is calm, and fresh, and still, 
Alone the chirp of flitting bird, 

And talk of children on the hill, 

And bell of wandering kine are heard. 

Soon rested those who fought ; but thou 
Who mightiest in the harder strife 

For truths which men receive not now, 
Thy warfare only ends with life. 

A. friendless warfare ! lingering long 
Through weary day and weary year. 

A. wild and many-weaponed throng 
Hang on thy front, and flank, and rear. 



Yet nerve thy spirit to the proof, 
And blench not at thy chosen lot. 

The timid good may stand aloof, 

The sage may front — yet faint thou not. 

Nor heed the shaft too surely cast, 
The foul and hissing bolt of scorn j 

For with thy side shall dwell, at last, 
The victory of endurance born. 

Truth, crushed to earth, shall rise again ; 

The eternal years of God are hers ; 
But Error, wounded, writes with pain, 

And dies among his worshippers. 

Yea, though thou lie upon the dust, 

When they who helped thee flee in fear, 

Die full of hope and manly trust, 
Like those who fell in battle here. 

Another hand thy sword shall wield, 
Another hand the standard wave, 

Till from the trumpet's mouth is pealed 
The blast of triumph o'er thy grave. 

W. C. Bryant 



160 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



THE SINKING OF THE MERRIMAC. 

The sinking of the ship Merrimac at the mouth of Santiago harbor, by Lieutenant Hobson, was 
one of the most daring exploits on record. It is here told in his own words, Although this selection 
is simple narrative, you should recite it in a spirited manner, with strong tones of voice, and show by 
your demeanor and expression that your are relating an event worthy of admiration. 

The figures printed in the text refer you to the corresponding numbers in "Typical Gestures," 
near the beginning of Part II. of this volume. Use other gestures that are appropriate, not in a stiff 
awkward way, but gracefully, making them appear, not forced, but natural. 



fDID not miss the entrance to the har- 
bor. I turned east until I got my 
bearings and then made 6 for it, straight 
in. Then came the firing. It was grand, u 
flashing out first from one side of the harbor 
and then from the other, from those big guns 2 
on the hills, the Spanish ship Vizcaya, lying 
inside the harbor, joining in. 

Troops from Santiago had rushed down 
when the news of the Merrimac's coming 
was telegraphed and soon lined the foot of 
tiie cliff, firing wildly across and killing each 
>ther with the cross fire. The Merrimac's 
steering gear broke as she got to Estrella 
Point. Only three of the torpedoes on her 
side exploded when I touched the button. 
A huge submarine mine caught her full amid- 
ships, hurling the water high in the air and 
tearing ffi a great rent in the Merrimac's side. 

Her stern ran upon Estrella Point. Chiefly 
owing to the work done by the mine she 
began to sink slowly. At that time she was 
across the channel, but before she settled the 
tide drifted her around. We were all aft, 
lying on the deck. Shells 13 and bullets 
whistled around. Six-inch shells from the 
Vizcaya came tearing into the Merrimac, 
crashing into wood and iron and passing 
clear through while the plunging shots from 
the fort broke through her decks. 

" Not a man 3 must move," I said, and it was 
only owing to the splendid discipline of the m en 
that we all were not killed, as the shells rained 
Jver us and minutes became hours of suspense. 
The men's mouths grew parched, but we must 
lie there till daylight, I told them. Now and 



again one or the other of the men lying 
with his face glued to the deck and wondering 
whether the next shell would not come our 
way would say : " Hadn't 3 we better drop off 
now, sir ? " but I said : " Wait 12 till daylight." 

It would have been impossible to get the 
catamaran or raft anywhere but to the shore, 
where the soldiers stood shooting, and I 
hoped that by daylight we might be recog- 
nized and saved. The grand old Merrimac 
kept sinking. I wanted to go forward and 
see the damage done there, where nearly all 
the fire was directed, but one man said that 
if I rose it would draw all the fire on the rest. 
So I lay motionless. It was splendid u the way 
these men behaved. The fire 6 of the soldiers, 
the batteries and the Vizcaya was awful. 

When the water came up on the Merrimac* .. 
decks the raft floated amid the wreckage, but 
she was still made fast to the boom, and we 
caught hold a of the edge and clung on, our 
heads only being above water. One man 
thought we were safer right 6 there; it was 
quite light; the firing had ceased, except 
that on the launch which followed to rescue 
us, and I feared 20 Ensign Powell and his 
men had been killed. 

A Spanish launch 8 came toward the Mer- 
rimac. We agreed to capture her and run. 
Just as she came close the Spaniards saw us, 
and a half-dozen marines jumped up and 
pointed 2 their rifles at our heads. " Is there 
any officer in that boat to receive a surrender 
of prisoners of war ? " I shouted. An old man 
leaned out under the awning and held out 6 his 
hand. It was the Spanish Admiral Cervera. 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



AS).' 



THE STARS AND STRIPES. 

The following glowing tributes to our American Flag afford excellent selections for any patnotk 
occasion. They make suitable recitations for children at celebrations on the Fourth of July, Washing* 
ton's birthday, etc. 



NOTHING BUT FLAGS. 

f^NOTHING but flags ! but simple flags ! 

I =* Tattered and torn, and hanging in rags ; 
.jls ^ ^ And we walk beneath them with 

careless tread, 
Nor think of the hosts of the mighty dead 
Who have marched beneath them in days gone by 
With a burning cheek and a kindling eye, 
And have bathed their folds with their young 

life's tide, 
And dying blessed them, and blessing died. 

OUR BANNER. 

Hail to our banner brave 
All o'er the land and wave 

To-day unfurled. 
No folds to us so fair 
Thrown on the summer air ; 
None with thee compare 

In all the world. 

W. P. Tilden. 

STAINED BY THE BLOOD OF HEROES. 

Around the globe, through every clime, 
Where commerce wafts or man hath t»o^ 

It floats aloft, unstained with crime, 
But hallowed by heroic blood. 

THE TATTERED ENSIGN. 

We seek not strife, but when our outraged laws 
Cry for protection in so just a cause, 
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down • 

Long has it waved on high, 
And many an eye has danced to see 

That banner in the sky. 
Nail to the mast her holy flag, 

Set every threadbare sail, 
And give her to the God of stormn, 

The lightning and the gale ! 

Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



THE FLAG OF OUR UNION. 

The union of lakes, the union of lands, 
The union of States none can sever ; 

The union of hearts, the union of hands, 
And the flag of our Union forever. 

George P. Morris 

FLAG OF THE FREE. 

When freedom from her mountain height 
Unfurled her standard to the air, 

She tore the azure robe of night 
And set the stars of glory there. 

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies, 
And striped its pure, celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light. 

Flag of the free hearts' hope and home 1 

By angel hands to valor given ! 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 

Forever float that standard sheet, 

Where breathes the foe, but falls before us, 
With freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And freedom's banner streaming o'er us. 

Joseph Rodman Drake 

STAND BY THE FLAG. 

$tand by the flag ! on land and ocean billow ; 

Py it your fathers stood, unmoved and true ; 
Living, defended ; dying, from their pillow, 

With their last blessing, passed it on to you. 
The lines fhat divide us are written in water, 
The love that upite us is cut deep as rock. 

Thus by friendship's ties united, 
We will change the bloody pas* 

Into golden links of union, 
Blending all in love af las*. 



162 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



Thus beneath the one broad banner, 
Flag of the true, the brave, the free, 

We will build anew the Union, 
Fortress of our Liberty. 

FREEDOM'S STANDARD. 

God bless our star-gemmed banner ; 

Shake its folds out to the breeze ; 
From church, from fort, from house-top, 

Over the city, on the seas ; 

The die is cast, the storm at last 
Has broken in its might ; 



Unfurl the starry banner, 
And may God defend the right. 

Then bless our banner, God of hosts ! 

Watch o'er each starry fold ; 
'Tis Freedom's standard, tried and proved 

On many a field of old ; 

And Thou, who long has blessed us, 

Now bless us yet again, 
And crown our cause with victory, 

And keep our flag from stain. 



RODNEY'S RIDE. 

On the third day of July, 1776, Caesar Rodney rode on horseback from St. James's Neck, below Dover, 
Delaware, to Philadelphia, in a driving rain storm, for the purpose of voting for the Declaration of 
Independence. 

This is an excellent reading for quick changes of voice and manner. To render it well will prove that 
you have genuine dramatic ability. You should study this selection carefully and practice it until you are 
the complete master of it. It requires a great deal of life and spirit, with changes of voice from the low tone 
to the loud call. For the most part your utterance should be rapid, yet distinct. 



fN that soft mid-land where the breezes bear 
The North and South on the genial air, 
Through the county of Kent, on affairs of 
State, 
Rode Caesar Rodney, the delegate. 

Burly and big, and bold and bluff, 
In his three-cornered hat and coat of snuff, 
A foe to King George and the English State, 
Was Caesar Rodney, the delegate. 

Into Dover village he rode apace, 
And his kinsfolk knew from his anxious face, 
It was matter grave that brought him there, 
To the counties three upon the Delaware. 

" Money and men we must have," he said, 
" Or the Congress fails and our cause is dead, 
Give us both and the King shall not work his 

will, 
We are men, since the blood of Bunker Jiill." 

Comes a rider swift on a panting bay ; 
" Ho, Rodney, ho ! you must save the da>, 
For the Congress halts at a deed so great, 
And your vote alone may decide its fate." 



Answered Rodney then : "I will ride with speed ; 
It is Liberty's stress; it is Freedom's need." 
"When stands it?" "To-night." "Not a 

moment to spare, 
But ride like the wind from the Delaware." 

" Ho, saddle the black ! I've but half a day, 
And the Congress sits eighty miles away — 
But I'll be in time, if God grants me grace, 
To shake my fist in King George's face." 

He is up ; he is off 1 and the black horse flies 
On the northward road ere the " God-speed " dies, 
It is gallop and spur, as the leagues they clear, 
And the clustering mile-stones move a-rear. 

It is two of the clock ; and the fleet hoofs fling 
The Fieldsboro' dust with a clang and a cling, 
It is three; and he gallops with slack rein where 
The road winds down to the Delaware. 

Four; and he spurs into New Castle town, 
From his panting steed he gets him down— ■ 
"A fresh one quick ! and not a moment's wait 1 " 
And off speeds Rodney, the delegate. 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



153 



It is five; and the beams of the western sun 
Tinge the spires of Wilmington, gold and dun; 
Six; and the dust of Chester street 
Flies back in a cloud from his courser's feet. 

It is seven ; the horse-boat, broad of beam, 
^.t the Schuylkill ferry crawls over the stream — 
/And at seven -fifteen by the Rittenhouse clock, 
He flings his rein to the tavern jock. 

The Congress is met; the debate's begun, 
And Liberty lags for the vote of one-— 



When into the hall, not a moment late, 
Walks Ca?sar Rodney, the delegate. 

Not a moment late ! and that half day's ride 
Forwards the world with a mighty stride; 
For the act was passed ; ere the midnight stroke 
O'er the Quaker City its echoes woke. 

At Tyranny's feet was the gauntlet flung; 

" We are free 1 " all the bells through the colonies 

rung, 
And the sons of the free may recall with pride, 
The day of Delegate Rodney's ride. 



^...o4„.*^ 



A SPOOL OF THREAD. 



The last battle of the Civil War was at Brazos, Texas, May 13, 1865, resulting in the surrender tti the 
Texan army. Recite this in a conversational tone, as you would tell any story. 




ELL, yes, I've lived in Texas, since the 
spring of '61 ; 
And I'll relate the story, though I fear, 
sir, when 'tis done, 
'Twill be little worth your hearing, it was such a 

simple thing, 
Unheralded in verses that the grander poets 
sing. 

There had come a guest unbidden, at the opening 

of the year, 
To find a lodgment in our hearts, and the tenant's 

name was fear; 
For secession's drawing mandate was a call for 

men and arms, 
And each recurring eventide but brought us fresh 

alarms. 

They had notified the General that he must yield 

to fate, 
And all the muniments of war surrender to the 

State, 
But he sent from San Antonio an order to the sea 
.To convey on board the steamer all the fort's 

artillery. 

Right royal was his purpose, but the foe divined 

his plan, 
And the wily Texans set a guard to intercept the 

sum 



Detailed to bear the message; they placed their 

watch with care 
That neither scout nor citizen should pass it 

unaware. 

Well, this was rather awkward, sir, as doubtless 

you will say, 
But the Major who was chief of staff resolved to 

have his way, 
Despite the watchful provost guard; so he asked 

his wife to send, 
With a little box of knick-knacks, a letter to her 

friend ; 
And the missive held one sentence I remember to 

this day: 
"The thread is for your neighbor, Mr. French, 

across the way." 

He dispatched a youthful courier. Of course, as 

you will know, 
The Texans searched him thoroughly and ordered 

him to show 
The contents of the letter. They read it o*ei 

and o'er, 
But failed to find the message they had hindered 

once before. 

So it reached the English lady, and she wondered 
at the word, 



154 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



But gave the tnread to Major French, explaining 

that she heard 
He wished a spool of cotton. And great was his 

surprise 
At such a trifle sent, unasked, through leagues of 

hostile spies. 

" There's some hidden purpose, doubtless, in the 

curious gift," he said. 
Then he tore away the label, and inside the 

spool of thread 
Was Major Nichols* order, bidding him convey 

to sea 
111 the arms and ammunition from Fort Duncan's 

battery. 



" Down to Brazon speed your horses," thus the 

Major's letter ran, 
" Shift equipments and munitions, and embark 

them if you ran." 

Yes, the transfer was effected, for the ships lay 

close at hand, 
Ere the Texans guessed their purpose they had 

vanished from the land. 
Do I know it for a fact, sir ? 'Tis no story that 

I've read — 
I was but a boy in war time, and I carriea him 

the thread. 

Sophie E. Eastman. 



THE YOUNG PATRIOT, ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 




NE Fourth of July, when Abraham 
Lincoln was a boy, he heard an ora- 
tion by old 'Squire Godfrey. As in 
the olden days, the 'Squire's oration 
was full of Washington; inspiring in the heart 
of young Lincoln an enthusiasm that sent him 
home burning with a desire to know more of 
the great man who heretofore had seemed 
more of a dream than a reality. Learning 
that a man some six miles up the creek 
owned a copy of Washington's life, Abraham 
did not rest that night until he had footed 
the whole distance and begged the loan of 
the book. 

" Sartin, sartin," said the owner. " The book 
is fairly well worn, but no leaves are missin', 
and a lad keen enough to read as to walk six 
miles to get a book, ought to be encouraged." 

It was a much-worn copy of Weem's " Life 
of Washington," and Abe, thanking the 
stranger for his kindness, walked back under 
the stars, stopping every little while to catch 
a glimpse of the features of the " Father of 
his Country" as shown in the frontispiece. 

After reaching home, tired as he was, he 
could not close his eyes until, by the light 
of a pine knot, he had found out all that was 



recorded regarding the boyhood of the man 
who had so suddenly sprung into prominence 
in his mind. In that busy harvest season he 
had no time to read or study during the day, 
but every night, long after the other members 
of the family were sleeping peacefully, Abe 
lay, stretched upon the floor with his book 
on the hearth, reading, reading, reading, the 
pine knot in the fireplace furnishing all the 
light he needed, the fire within burning with 
such intense heat as to kindle a blaze that 
grew and increased until it placed him in the 
highest seat of his countrymen. 

What a marvelous insight into the human 
heart did Abraham Lincoln get between the 
covers of that wonderful book. The little 
cabin grew to be a paradise as he learned 
from the printed pages the story of one great 
man's life. The barefooted boy in buckskin 
breeches, so shrunken that they reached only 
halfway between the knee and ankle, actually 
asked himself whether there might not be 
some place — great and honorable, awaiting 
him in th future. 

Before this treasured " Life of Washing- 
ton " was returned to its owner, it met with 
such a mishap as almost to ruin it The 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



15o 



book, which was lying on a board upheld by 
two pegs, was soaked by the rain that dashed 
between the logs one night, when a sto r m 
beat with unusual force against the north 
end of the cabin. Abraham was heartbroken 
over the catastrophe, and sadly carried the 
book back to its owner, offering to work to 
pay for the damage done. The man con- 
sented, and the borrower worked for three 
days at seventy- five cents a day, and thus 
himself became the possessor of the old, 
fader', stained book — a book that had more 
to do with shaping his life, perhaps, than any 
one other thing. 

Abe had not expected to take the book 
back with him, but merely to pay for the 
damage done, and was surprised when the 
man handed it to him when starting. He 
was very grateful, however, and when he 
gave expression to his feelings the old man 
said, patting him on the shoulder : " You 
have earned it, my boy, and are welcome to 
it. It's a mighty fine thing to have a head 
for books, just as fine to have a heart for 
honesty, and if you keep agoin' as you have 
started, maybe some day you'll git to be 
President yourself. President Abraham Lin- 
coln ! That would sound fust rate, fust rate, 
now, wouldn't it, sonny?" 



" It's not a very handsome name, to be 
sure," Abe replied, looking as though he 
thought such an event possible, away off, in 
the future. " No, it's not a very very hand- 
some name, but I guess it's about as hand- 
some as its owner," he added, glancing at the 
reflection of his homely features in the little 
old-fashioned, cracked mirror hanging oppo- 
site where he sat. 

" Handsome is that handsome does," said 
the old farmer, nodding his gray head in an 
approving style. " Yes, indeedy; handsome 
deeds make handsome men. We hain't a 
nation of royal idiots, with one generation 
of kings passin' away to make room for an- 
other. No, sir-ee. In this free country of 
ourn, the rich and poor stand equal chances, 
and a boy without money is just as likely to 
work up to the Presidential chair as the one 
who inherits from his parents lands and stocks 
and money and influence. It's brains that 
counts in this land of liberty, and Abraham 
Lincoln has just as much right to sit in the 
highest seat in the land as Washington's 
son himself, if he had had a son, which he 
hadn't." 

Who knows but the future War President 
of this great Republic received his first aspi- 
rations from this kindly neighbor's words ? 



COLUMBIA. 



x' "^COLUMBIA, Columbia, to glory arise; 
I y The queen of the world, and the child 
^Hs of the skies ; 

Thy genius commands thee ; with rap- 
ture behold, 
While ages on ages thy splendors unfold. 
Thy reign is the last and the noblest of time, 
Most fruitful thy soil, most inviting thy clime ; 
Let the crimes of the east ne'er encrimson thy 

name, 
Be freedom, and science, and virtue, thy fame. 



To conquest and slaughter let Europe aspire, 
Whelm nations in blood, and wrap cities in fire ', 
Thy heroes the rights of mankind shall defend, 
And triumph pursue them, and glory attend. 
A world is thy realm — for a world be thy laws- 
Enlarged as thine empire, and just as thy cause ; 
On freedom's broad basis thy empire shall rise, 
Extend with the main, and dissolve with the skies 

Thy fleets to all regions thy power shall display, 
The nations admire, and the ocean obey ; 



156 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



Each shore to thy glory its tribute unfold, 

And the east and the south yield their spices and 

gold. 
As the day-spring, unbounded, thy splendor shall 

flow, 
And earth's little kingdoms before thee shall 

bow, 
While the ensigns of union, in triumph unfurled, 
Hush the tumult of war, and give peace to the 

world. 



Thus, as down a lone valley, with cedars o'er- 

spread, 
From war's dread confusion, I pensively strayed, 
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired ; 
The winds ceased to murmur ; the thunder expired ; 
Perfumes, as of Eden, flowed sweetly along, 
And a voice, as of angels, enchantingly sung, 
" Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise; 
The queen of the world, and the child of the 

skies." Joel Barlow. 



CAPTAIN MOLLY AT MONMOUTH. 

One of the fam^fls battles of the Revolution was that of Monmouth, New Jersey, whLfi was fought on 
the 28th of June, 1778. General Washington was in command on the American side, and General Sir 
Henry Clinton was commander-in-chief of the British forces. The British troops met with a decisive defeat. 
The wife of an Irish gunner on the American side who went by the name of Molly had followed her husband 
to the battle. During the engagement he was shot down. With the most undaunted heroism Molly rushed 
forward and took his place at the gun and remained there throughout the thickest of the fight. In reciting 
this graphic account of her courageous deed you should show great spirit and animation, pointing her out as 
she takes her husband's place, and in glowing manner describe her patriotism. 




N the bloody field of Monmouth flashed 
the guns of Greene and Wayne ; 
Fiercely roared the tide of battle, thick 
the sward was heaped with slain. 
Foremest, facing death and danger, Hessian 

horse and grenadier, 
In the vanguard, fiercely fighting, stood an Irish 
cannoneer. 

Loudly roared his iron cannon, mingling ever in 

the strife, 
And beside him, firm and daring, stood his 

faithful Irish wife ; 
Of her bold contempt of danger, Greene and 

Lee's brigade could tell, 
Every one knew "Captain Molly," and the army 

loved her well. 

Surged the roar of battle round them, swiftly 

flew the iron hail ; 
Forward dashed a thousand bayonets that lone 

battery to assail ; 
From the foeman's foremost columns swept a 

furious fusilade, 
Mowing down the massed battalions in the ranks 

of Greene's brigade. 



Faster and faster worked the gunner, soiled with 

powder, blood and dust ; 
English bayonets shone before him, shot and 

shell around him burst ; 
Still he fought with reckless daring, stood and 

manned her long and well, 
Till at last the gallant fellow dead beside his 

cannon fell. 

With a bitter cry of sorrow, and a dark and 

angry frown, 
Looked that band of gallant patriots at their 

gunner stricken down. 
" Fall back, comrades! It is folly thus to strive 

against the foe." 
"Not so! " cried Irish Molly, "we can strike 

another blow ! " 

Quickly leaped she to the cannon in her fallen 

husband's place, 
Sponged and rammed it fast and steady, fired h 

in the foeman's face. 
Flashed another ringing volley, roared anothei 

from the gun ; 
" Boys, hurrah ! " cried gallant Molly, " for the 

flag of Washington 1 " 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



16T 



Greene's brigade, though shorn and shattered, 
slain and bleeding half their men, 

When they heard that Irish slogan, turned and 
charged the foe again; 

Knox and Wayne and Morgan rally, to the front 
they forward wheel, 

And before their rushing onset Clinton's Eng- 
lish columns reel. 

Still the cannon's voice in anger rolled and 
rattled o'er the plain, 

Till they lay in swarms around it mingled heaps 
of Hessian slain. 

"Forward! charge them with the bayonet!" 
'twas the voice of Washington ; 

And there burst a fiery greeting from the Irish- 
woman's gun. 



Monckton falls ; against his columns leap the 

troops of Wayne and Lee, 
And before their reeking bayonets Clinton's red 

battalions flee ; 
Morgan's rifles, fiercely flashing, thin the foe's 

retreating ranks, 
And behind them, onward dashing, Ogden hovers 

on their flanks. 

Fast they fly, those boasting Britons, who in all 

their glory came, 
With their brutal Hessian hirelings to wipe out 

our country's name. 
Proudly floats the starry banner; Monmouth's 

glorious field is won ; 
And, in triumph, Irish Molly stands besides her 

smoking gun. William Collins. 



DOUGLAS TO THE POPULACE OF STIRLING. 




"EAR, gentle friends ! ere yet, for me, 
Ye break the bands of fealty. 
My life, my honor, and my cause, 
I tender free to Scotland's laws. 
Are these so weak as must require 
The aid of your misguided ire ? 
Or, if I suffer causeless wrong, 
Is then my selfish rage so strong, 
My sense of public weal so low, 
That, for mean vengeance on a foe, 
Those cords of love I should unbind 
Which knit my country and my kind ? 
Oh no I believe, in yonder tower 



It will not soothe my captive hour, 

To know those spears our foes should dread 

For me in kindred gore are red ; 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun, 

For me, that mother wails her son ; 

For me that widow's mate expires, 

For me, that orphans weep their sires, 

That patriots mourn insulted laws, 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

O let your patience ward such ill, 

And keep your right to lo^e me still. 



Sir Walter Scott. 



•@v>4©< 



OUR COUNTRY. 




UR country ! — 'tis a glorious land ! 
With broad arms stretched from 
shore to shore, 
The proud Pacific chafes her strand, 
She hears the dark Atlantic roar ; 
And, nurtured on her ample breast, 
How many a goodly prospect lies 
Tn Nature's wildest grandeur drest, 
Enamelled with her loveliest dyes. 



Rich prairies, decked with flowers of 
gold, 

Like sunlit oceans roll afar ; 
Broad lakes her azure heavens behold, 

Reflecting clear each trembling star, 
And mighty rivers, mountain-born, 

Go sweeping onward dark and deep, 
Through forests where the bounding fawn 

Beneath their sheltering branches leap. 



158 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



And, cradled mid her clustering hills, 

Sweet vales in dreamlike beauty hide, 
Where love the air with music fills ; 

And calm content and peace abide; 
For plenty here her fulness pours 

In rich profusion o'er the land, 
And sent to seize her generous stores, 

There prowls no tyrant's hireling band. 



Great God ! we thank thee for this home— 

This bounteous birthland of the free ; 
Where wanderers from afar may come, 

And breathe the air of liberty ! — 
Still may her flowers untrampled spring, 

Her harvests wave, her cities rise ; 
And yet, till Time shall fold his wing, 

Remain Earth's loveliest paradise 1 

W. G. PEABODItt 



M'lLRATH OF MALATE. 

Acting Sergeant J. A. Mcllrath, Battery H, Third Artillery, Regulars ; enlisted from New York ; fifteen 
years' service. The heroism of our brave Regulars in the War with Spain was the theme of universal 
admiration. Throw plenty of life and fire into this reading, and avoid a sing-song tone. 



V\7ES, yes, my boy, there's no mistake, 
IP) You put the contract through ! 
You lads with Shafter, I'll allow, 
Were heroes, tried and true; 

But don't forget the men who fought 

About Manila Bay, 
And don't forget brave Mcllrath 

Who died at Malate\ 

The night was black, save where the forks 

Of tropic lightning ran, 
When, with a long deep thunder-roar, 

The typhoon storm began. 

Then, suddenly above the din, 

We heard the steady bay 
Of volleys from the trenches where 

The Pennsylvanians lay. 

The Tenth, we thought, could hold their own 

Against the feigned attack, 
And, if the Spaniards dared advance, 

Would pay them doubly back. 

But soon we marked the volleys sink 

Into a scattered fire — 
And, now we heard the Spanish gun 

Boom nigher yet and nigher ! 

Then, like a ghost, a courier 

Seemed past our picket tossed 
With wild hair streaming in his face — 

" We're lost — we're lost— we're lost." 



" Front, front — in God's name— front I " he 
cried : 

" Our ammunition's gone ! " 
He turned a face of dazed dismay — 

And through the night sped on ! 

"Men, follow mel " cried Mcllrath, 

Our acting Sergeant then ; 
And when he gave the word he knew 

He gave the word to men ! 

Twenty there — not one man more— 

But down the sunken road 
We dragged the guns of Battery H, 

Nor even stopped to load ! 

Sudden, from the darkness poured 

A storm of Mauser hail — 
But not a man there thought to pause, 

Nor any man to quail ! 

Ahead, the Pennsylvanians' guns 

In scattered firing broke ; 
The Spanish trenches, red with flame, 

In fiercer volleys spoke ! 

Down with a rush our twenty came — 

The open field we passed — 
And in among the hard-pressed Tenth 

We set our feet at last ! 

Up, with a leap, sprang Mcllrath, 

Mud-spattered, worn and wet, 
And, in an instant, there he stood 

High on the parapet ( 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



159 



"Steady, boys ! we've got 'em now — 

Only a minute late ! 
It's all right, lads — we've got 'em whipped. 

Just give 'em volleys straight ! " 

Then, up and down the parapet 

With head erect he went, 
As cool as when he sat with us 

Beside our evening tent ! 

Not one of us, close sheltered there 

Down in the trench's pen, 
But felt that he would rather die 

Than shame or grieve him then ! 



The fire, so close to being qnenched 

In panic and defeat, 
Leaped forth, by rapid volleys sped, 

In one long deadly sheet! 

A cheer went up along the line 

As breaks the thunder-call — 
But, as it rose, great God ! we saw 

Our gallant Sergeant fall ! 

He sank into our outstretched arms 

Dead — but immortal grown j 
And Glory brightened where he fell, 

And valor claimed her own ! 

John Jerome Rooney. 



AFTER THE BATTLE. 

If you should read or recite, this tragic selection in a dull monotone, as most persons read poetry, the 
effect would be ludicrous. The brave captain is dying. With gasping utterance, signs of weakness and 
appealing looks, his words should be delivered. Some of the sentences should be whispered. Do not 
attempt to recite this piece until you have mastered it and can render it with telling effect. It demands the 
trained powers of a competent elocutionist. 

"It can make no difference whether I go from 
here or there. 
Thou' It write to father and tell him when I am 
dead ? — 
The eye that sees the sparrow fall numbers every 
hair 

Even of this poor head. 




RAVE captain ! canst thou speak ? 
What is it thou dost see ? 
A wondrous glory lingers on thy face, 
The night is past ; I've watched the 
night with thee. 

Knowest thou the place? " 

" The place ? 'Tis San Juan, comrade. 
Is the battle over? 
The victory — the victory — is it won ? 

My wound is mortal ; I know I cannot recover — 
The battle for me is done ! 

: ' I never thought it would come to this 1 

Does it rain? 
The musketry ! Give me a drink ; ah, that is 
glorious ! 
Now if it were not for this pain — this pain- 
Didst thou say victorious ? 

" It would not be strange, would it, if I do 
wander ? 
A man can't remember with a bullet in his 
brain. 
J wish when at home I had been a little fonder — 
Shall. I ever be well again ? 



" Tarry awhile, comrade, the battle can wait for 
thee; 
I will try to keep thee but a few brief moments 
longer ; 
Thou'lt say good-bye to the friends at home for 
me? — 

If only I were a little stronger ! 

" I must not think of it. Thou art sorry for me? 
The glory — is it the glory? — makes me blind; • 
Strange, for the light, comrade, the light I can- 
not see — 

Thou hast been very kind ! 

"I do not think I have done so very much 
evil — 
I did not mean it. ' I lay me down to sleep. 



\60 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



I pray the Lord my soul ' — just a little rude and 
uncivil — 

Comrade, why dost thou weep? 

** Oh ! if human pity is so gentle and tender — 
Good-night, good friends ! ' I lay me down 
to sleep !' — 
Who from a Heavenly Father's love needs a de- 
fender ? 

'My soul to keep!' 

" ' If I should die before I wake ' — comrade, tell 
mother, 
Remember — 'I pray the Lord my soul to take ! ' 
My musket thou' It carry back to my little brother 
For my dear sake 1 

" Attention, company ! Reverse arms ! Very 
well, men ; my thanks, 
Where am I ? Do I wander, comrade, — wan- 
der again ? — 
Farade is over. Company E, break ranks ! break 
ranks ! 

I know it is the pain. 



" Give me thy strong hand ; fain would I cling, 
comrade to thee ; 
I feel a chill air blown from a far-off shore ; 
My sight revives; Death stands and looks at 
me. 

What waits he for ? 

" Keep back my ebbing pulse till I be bolder 
grown ; 
I would know something of the Silent Land ; 
It's hard to struggle to the front alone — 
Comrade, thy hand. 

"The reveille calls! be strong, my soul, and 
peaceful ; 
The Eternal City bursts upon my sight ! 
The ringing air with ravishing melody is full — 
I've won the fight 1 

"Nay, comrade, let me go; hold not my hand 
so steadfast ; 
I am commissioned — under marching orders — 
I know the Future — let the Past be past — 
I cross the borders." 



THE GREAT NAVAL BATTLE OF MANILA* 




ITH the United States flag flying 
at all their mastheads, our ships 
moved to the attack in line ahead, 
with a speed of eight knots, first passing in 
front of Manila, where the action was begun 
by three batteries mounting guns powerful 
enough to send a shell over us at a distance of 
five miles. The Concord's guns boomed out a 
reply to these batteries with two shots. No 
more were fired, because Admiral Dewey could 
not engage with these batteries without send- 
ing death and destruction into the crowded city. 

As we neared Cavite two very powerful 
submarine mines were exploded ahead of the 
flagship. The Spaniards had misjudged our 
position. Immense volumes of water were 
thrown high in air by these destroyers, but 
uo harm was done to our ships. 

Admiral Dewey had fought with Farragut 



at New Orleans and Mobile Bay, where he 
had his first experience with torpedoes. Not 
knowing how many more mines there might 
be ahead, he still kept on without faltering. 
No other mines exploded, however, and it is 
believed that the Spaniards had only these 
two in place. 

Only a few minutes later the shore battery 
at Cavite Point sent over the flagship a shot 
that nearly hit the battery in Manila, but 
soon the guns got a better range, and the 
shells began to strike near us, or burst close 
aboard from both the batteries and the Span- 
ish vessels. The heat was intense. Mer 
stripped off all clothing except their trousers 

As the Admiral's flagship, the Olympia, 
drew nearer all was as silent on board as if 
the ship had been empty, except for the 
whirr of blowers and the throb of the en- 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



I6i 



gines. Suddenly a shell burst directly over 
us. From the boatswain's mate at the after 
5-inch gun came a hoarse cry. " Remember 
the Maine !" arose from the throats of five 
hundred men at the guns. This watchword 
was caught up in turrets and fire-rooms, 
wherever seaman or fireman stood at his post 

" Remember the Maine !" had rung out for 
defiance and revenge. Its utterance seemed 
unpremeditated, but was evidently in every 
man's mind, and, now that the moment had 
come to make adequate reply to the murder 
of the Maine's crew, every man shouted what 
was in his heart. 

The Olympia was now ready to begin the 
fight. "You may fire when ready, Captain 
Gridley," said the Admiral, and at nineteen 
minutes of six o'clock, at a distance of 5,500 
yards, the starboard 8-inch gun in the for- 
ward turret roared forth a compliment to the 
Spanish forts. Presently similar guns from 
the Baltimore and the Boston sent 250-pound 
shells hurtling toward the Spanish ships Cas- 
tilla and the Reina Christina for accuracy. 
The Spaniards seemed encouraged to fire 
faster, knowing exactly our distance, while we 
had to guess theirs. Their ship and shore 
guns were making things hot for us. 

The piercing scream of shot was varied 
often by the bursting of time fuse shells, 
fragments of which would lash the water like 
shrapnel or cut our hull and rigging. One 
large shell that war coming straight at the 



Olympia's forward bridge fortunately fell 
within less than one hundred feet away. One 
fragment cut the rigging exactly over the 
heads of some of the officers. Another struck 
the bridge gratings in line with it. A third 
passed just under Dewey and gouged a hole in 
the deck. Incidents like these were plentiful. 

" Capture and destroy Spanish squadron," 
were Dewey's orders. Never were instruc- 
tions more effectually carried out. Within 
seven hours after arriving on the scene of 
action nothing remained to be done. The 
Admiral closed the day by anchoring off the 
city of Manila and sending word to the Gover- 
nor General that if a shot was fired from the 
city at the fleet he would lay Manila in ashes. 

What was Dewey's achievement? He 
steamed into Manila Bay at the dead hour of 
the night, through the narrower of the two 
channels, and as soon as there was daylight 
enough to grope his way about he put his 
ships in line of battle and brought on an en- 
gagement, the greatest in many respects i< 
ancient or modern warfare. The results are 
known the world over — every ship in the 
Spanish fleet destroyed, the harbor Dewey's 
own, his own ships safe from the shore batter- 
ies, owing to the strategic position he occupied, 
and Manila his whenever he cared to take it. 

Henceforth, so long as ships sail and flags 
wave, high on the scroll that bears the names 
of the world's greatest naval heroes will be 
written that of George Dewey 



»@W©« 



THE SINKING OF THE SHIPS. 

This is an excellent selection for any one who can put dramatic force into its recital. Picture iu your 
imagination the " Sinking of the Ships," and then describe it to your hearers as though the actual scene 
were before you. You have command in these words, "Now, sailors, stand by," etc.; rapid utterance in 
these words, "And the Oregon flew," etc.; subdued tenderness in the words, "Giving mercy to all," etc. 
In short, the whoJ« piece affords an excellent opportunity for intense dramatic description. 



M 



ARK, daik is the night ; not a star in 
the sky, 
And the Maine rides serenely; what 
danger is nigh? 



("-*) 



Our nation's at peace with the Kingdom of Spain, 
So calmly they rest in the battleship Maine. 
But, hark to that roar ! See, the water is red ! 
And the sailor sleeps now with the ilims for hii h§4 



162 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



Havana then shook, like the leaves of the trees, 
When the tornado rides on the breast of the 

breeze ; 
Then people sprang up from their beds in the 

gloom, 

As they'll spring from their graves at the thunder 

of doom ; 
And they rushed through the streets, in their 

terror and fear, 
Crying out as they ran, "Have the rebels come 

here?" 

"Oh, see how the flame lights the shores of the 

bay, 
Like the red rising sun at the coming of day ; 
Tis a ship in a blaze ! 'Tis the battleship Maine ! 
vVhat means this to us and the Kingdom of Spain ? 
The eagle will come at that loud sounding roar, 
And our flag will fly free over Cuba no more." 

Dark, dark is the night on the face of the deep, 
In the forts all is still ; are the soldiers asleep ? 
Oh, see how that ship glides along through the 

night ; 
'Tis the ghost of the Maine — she has come to the 

fight; 
A flash, and a roar, and a cry of despair ; 
The eagle has come, for brave Dewey is there. 

Oh, Spaniards, come out, for the daylight has 

fled, 
And look on those ships — look with terror and 

dread ; 
The eagle has come, and he swoops to his prey ; 
Oh, fly, Spaniards, fly, to that creek in the bay ! 
The eagle has come — " Remember the Maine ! " 
And the water is red with the blood of the slain. 

They rest for a time — now they sail in again ! 
Oh, woe, doom and woe, to the kingdom of 

Spain. 
Their ships are ablaze, they are battered and rent, 
By the death-dealing shells which our sailors have 

sent. 
Not a man have we lost ; yet the battle is o'er, 
And their ships ride the bay of Manila no more. 

Dark, silent and dark, on the face of the deep, 
A ship glides in there ; are the Spaniards asleep ? 



The channel is mined ! Oh, rash sailors Netware t 
Or that death dealing fiend will spring up from 

his lair ; 
He will tear you, and rend you, with wild fiend 

ish roar, 
And cast you afar on the bay and the shore ! 

They laugh at the danger ; what care they for 

death? 
'Tis only a shock and the ceasing of breath ; 
Their souls to their Maker, their forms to the 

wave, 
What nation has sons like the home of the brave ? 
That ship they would steer to the pit of despair, 
If duty cried ' ' Onward ! ' ' and glory were there. 

The shore is ablaze, but the channel they gain ; 
A word of command, and the rattle of chain ; 
A flash — and the Merrimac's sunk in the bay, 
And the Spaniard must leave in the light of the 

day. 
Santiago and Hobson remembered shall be, 
While waves the proud flag of the brave and the 

free. 

The Spaniards sail out — what a glorious sight ! 
Now, sailors, stand by and prepare for the fight ; 
O, Glo'ster, in there, pelt the Dons as they fly, 
Make us glorious news for the Fourth of July J 
And Wainwright remembered the Maine with a 

roar, 
And that shell-battered hulk is a terror no more. 

Then Schley and the Brooklyn were right in the 

way, 
But Sampson had gone to see Shafter, they say ; 
And the Oregon flew like a fury from hell, 
Spreading wreckage and death with the might of 

her shell ; 
Then Evans stood out, like a chivalrous knight, 
Giving mercy to all at the end of the fight. 

The Colon still flies, but a shell cleaves the air, 
Its number is fatal — a cry of despair — 
She turns to the shore, she bursts into flame, 
And down comes the flag of the kingdom of 

Spain ; 
Men float all around, the battle is done, 
And their ships are all sunk for the sinking of os?. 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



163 



Not ours is the hand that would strike in the 

night, 
With the fiendish intention to mangle and slay ; 



We strike at obstruction to freedom and right, 
And strike when we strike in the light of the 
day. W. B. Collison. 



PERRY'S CELEBRATED VICTORY ON LAKE ERIE. 




iERRY'S famous battle on Lake Erie 
raised the spirits of the Americans. 
The British had six ships, with 
sixty-three guns. The Americans 
had nine ships, with fifty-four guns, and the 
American ships were much smaller than the 
English. At this time Perry, the American 
commander, was but twenty-six years of age. 
His flagship was the Lawrence. The ship's 
watchword was the last charge of the Chesa- 
peake's dying Commander — " Don't give up 
the ship.'' The battle was witnessed by 
thousands of people on shore. 

At first the advantage seemed to be with 
the English. Perry's flagship was riddled 
by English shots, her guns were dismounted 
and the battle seemed lost. At the supreme 
crisis Perry embarked in a small boat with 
some of his officers, and under the fire of 
many cannon passed to the Niagara, another 
ship of the fleet, of which he took command. 
After he had left the Lawrence she hauled 
down her flag and surrendered, but the other 
American ships carried on the battle with 
such fierce impetuosity that the English 



battle-ship in turn surrendered, the Lawrence 
was retaken and all the English ships yielded 
with the exception of one, which took flight 
The Americans pursued her, took her and 
came back with the entire British squadron. 
In the Capitol at Washington is a historical 
picture showing this famous victory. 

In Perry's great battle on Lake Erie was 
shown the true stuff of which American 
sailors are made. Perry was young, bold 
and dashing, but withal, he had the coolness 
and intrepidity of the veteran. History 
records few braver acts than his passage in 
an open boat from one ship to another under 
the galling fire of the enemy. 

The grand achievements of the American 
navy are brilliant chapters in our country's 
history. When the time comes for daring 
deeds, our gallant tars are equal to the occa- 
sion. Coolness in battle, splendid discipline, 
perfect marksmanship and a patriotism that 
glories in the victory of the Stars and Stripes, 
combine to place the officers and men of our 
navy in the front rank of the world's greatest 
heroes. 




THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC. 



ENERAL WOLFE, the English 
commander, saw that he must take 
Quebec by his own efforts or not 
at all. He attempted several diversions 
above the city in the hope of drawing Mont- 
calm, the French commander, from his in- 
trenchments into the open field, but Mont- 



hundred men to watch the shore above Que- 
bec and prevent a landing. Wolfe fell into 
a fever, caused by his anxiety, and his 
despatches to his government created the 
gravest uneasiness in England for the success 
of his enterprise. 

Though ill, Wolfe examined the river witK 



calm merely sent De Bougainville with fifteen eagle eyes to detect some place at which a 



164 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



landing could be attempted. His energy 
was rewarded by his discovery of the cove 
which now bears his name. From the shore 
at the head of this cove a steep and difficult 
pathway, along which two men could scarcely 
march abreast, wound up to the summit of 
the heights and was guarded by a small force 
of Canadians. 

Wolfe at once resolved to effect a landing 
here and ascend the heights by this path. 
The greatest secrecy was necessary to the 
success of the undertaking, and in order to 
deceive the French as to his real design, 
Captain Cook, afterwards famous as a great 
navigator, was sent to take soundings and 
place buoys opposite Montcalm's camp, as if 
that were to be the real point of attack. The 
morning of the thirteenth of September was 
chosen for the movement, and the day and 
night of the twelfth were spent in prepara- 
tions for it. 

At one o'clock on the morning of the thir. 
teenth a force of about five thousand men 
under Wolfe, with Monckton and Murray, set 
off in boats from the fleet, which had ascended 
the river several days before, and dropped 
down to the point designated for the land- 
ing. Each officer was thoroughly informed 
of the duties required of him, and each 
shared the resolution of the gallant young 
commander, to conquer or to die. As the 
boats floated down the stream, in the clear, 
cool starlight, Wolfe spoke to his officers of 
the poet Gray, and of his " Elegy in a 
Country Churchyard." "I would prefer," 
said he, " being the author of that poem to 
the glory of beating the French to-morrow." 
Then in a musing voice he repeated the 
lines : 

•* The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 

Await alike the inexorable hour ; 
The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 

In a short while the landing-place was 



reached, and the fleer, following silently, 
took position to cover the landing if neces- 
sary. Wolfe and his immediate command 
leaped ashore and secured the pathway. 
The light infantry, who were carried by the 
tide a little below the path, climbed up th« 
side of the heights, sustaining themselves bj 
clinging to the roots and shrubs which lined 
the precipitous face of the hill. They 
reached the summit and drove off the picket- 
guard after a light skirmish. The rest of 
the troops ascended in safety by the path- 
way. Having gained the heights, Wolfe 
moved forward rapidly to clear the forest, 
and by daybreak his army was drawn up on 
the Heights of Abraham, in the rear of the 
city. 

Montcalm was speedily informed of the 
presence of the English. " It can be but a 
small party come to burn a few houses and 
retire," he answered incredulously. A brief 
examination satisfied him of his danger, and 
he exclaimed in amazement : " Then they 
have at last got to the weak side of this 
miserable garrison. We must give battle 
and crush them before mid-day." 

He at once despatched a messenger for De 
Bougainville, who was fifteen miles up the 
river, and marched from his camp opposite 
the city to the Heights of Abraham to drive 
the English from them. The opposing forces 
were about equal in numbers, though the 
English troops were superior to their adver- 
saries in discipline, steadiness and determina- 
tion. 

The battle began about ten o'clock and 
was stubbornly contested. It was at length 
decided in favor of the English. Wolfe 
though wounded several times, continued to 
direct his army until, as he was leading 
them to a final charge, he received a 
musket ball in the breast. He tottered and 
called to an officer near him : " Support me ; 
let not my brave fellpws see me drop." He 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 



165 



was borne tenderly to the rear, and wate^ 
was brought him to quench his thirst. 

At this moment the officer upon whom he 
was leaning cried out: "They run! they 
run ! " " Who run ? " asked the dying hero, 
eagerly. "The French," said the officer, 
give way everywhere." " What," said 
Wolfe, summoning up his remaining strength, 
" do they run already ? Go, one of you, to 



Colonel Burton; bid him march Webb's 
regiment with all speed to Charles River to 
cut off the fugitives." Then a smile of con- 
tentment overspreading his pale features, he 
murmured : " Now, God be praised, I die 
happy," and expired. He had done his 
whole duty, and with his life had purchased 
an empire for his country. 

James D. McCabe, 



^^\ URNING sands, and isles of palm, and 
j s~s. the Mamelukes' fierce array, 
f ~* i Under the solemn Pyramids, Napo- 
leon saw that day ; 
"Comrades," he cried, " from those old heights, 

Fame watches the deeds you do, 
The eyes of forty centuries are fixed this day on 
you ! " 

They answered him with ringing shouts, they 

were eager for the fray, 
Napoleon held their central square, in front was 

bold Desaix ; 
They gave one glance to the Pyramids, one glance 

to the rich Cairo, 
And then they poured a rain of fire upon their 

charging foe. 

Only a little drummer boy, from the column of 
Dufarge, 

Tottered to where the "Forty-third" stood wait- 
ing for their " charge," 

Bleeding — but beating still his call — he said, 
with tear-dimmed eye : 

" I'm but a baby, Forty-third, so teach me how 
to die!" 

Then Regnier gnawed his long gray beard, and 

Joubert turned away, 
The lad had been the pet of all, they knew not 

what to say ; 
"I will not shame you, 'Forty-third,' though I 

am but a child 1 " 



LITTLE JEAN. 

At the battle of the Pyramids, July 21st, A. D. Ijg8. 

Then Regnier stooped and kissed his face, and 
shouted loud and wild : 



"Forward! Why are we waiting here? Shall 

Mamelukes stop our way ? 
Come, little Jean, and beat the 'charge,' a»d 

ours shall be the day ; 
And we will show thee how to die, good boy ! 

good boy ! Be brave ! 
It is not every ' nine years' old' can fill a soldier's 

grave ! " 

It was as though a spirit spoke, the men to bat' 
tie flew ; 

Yet each in passing, cried aloud : " My little 
Jean, Adieu! " 

"Adieu, brave Forty-third, Adieu!" Then 
proudly beat his drum — 

" You've showed me how a soldier dies — and lit- 
tle Jean will come ! " 

They found him 'mid the slain next day, amid 

the brave who fell, 
Said Regnier, proudly, " My brave Jean, thou 

learned thy lesson well ! " 
They hung the medal round his neck, and crossed 

his childish nands, 
And dug fcx him a little grave in Egypt's lonely 

sands. 
But, still, the corps his memory keep, and name 

with flashing eye, 
The hero whom the "Forty-third," in Egypt, 

taught to die. Liluk E. Barr. 



166 



W: 



PATRIOTIC RECITATIONS. 
THE DEFEAT OF GENERAL BRADDOCK. 



ASHINGTON, who, at this time, 
was a subordinate officer, was well 
convinced that the French and In- 
dians were informed of the movements of the 
army and would seek to interfere with it 
before its arrival at Fort Duquesne, which 
was only ten miles distant, and urged Brad- 
dock to throw in advance the Virginia Ran- 
gers, three hundred strong, as they were ex- 
perienced Indian fighters. 

Braddock angrily rebuked his aide, and as 
if to make the rebuke more pointed, ordered 
the Virginia troops and other provincials to 
take position in the rear of the regulars. 

In the meantime the French at Fort Du- 
quesne had been informed by their scouts of 
Braddock's movements, and had resolved to 
ambuscade him on his march. Early on the 
morning of the ninth a force of about two 
hundred and thirty French and Canadians 
and six hundred and thirty-seven Indians, 
under De Beaujeu, the commandant at Fort 
Duquesne, was despatched with orders to 
occupy a designated spot and attack the en- 
emy upon their approach. Before reaching 
it, about two o'clock in the afternoon, they 
encountered the advanced force of the Eng- 
lish army, under Lieutenant-Colonel Thomas 
Gage, and at once attacked them with spirit. 

The English army at this moment was 
moving along a narrow road, about twelve 
feet in width, with scarcely a scout thrown 
out in advance or upon the flanks The en- 
gineer who was locating the road was the 
first to discover the enemy, and called out : 
" French and Indians ! " Instantly a heavy 
fire was opened upon Gage's force, and his 
indecision allowed the French and Indians to 
seize a commanding ridge, from which they 
maintained their attack with spirit. 

The regulars were quickly thrown into 
confusion by the heavy fire and the fierce 



yells of the Indians, who could nowhere be 
seen, and their losses were so severe and sud- 
den that they became panic-stricken. 

The only semblance of resistance main- 
tained by the English was by the Virginia 
Rangers, whom Braddock had insulted at the 
beginning of the day's march. Immediately 
upon the commencement of the battle, they 
had adopted the tactics of the Indians, and 
had thrown themselves behind trees, from 
which shelter they were rapidly picking off 
the Indians. Washington entreated Brad- 
dock to follow the example of the Virginians, 
but he refused, and stubbornly endeavored 
to form them in platoons under the fatal 
fire that was being poured upon them by 
their hidden assailants. Thus through his 
obstinacy many useful lives were lost. 

The officers did not share the panic of the 
men, but behaved with the greatest gallantry. 
They were the especial marks of the Indian 
sharpshooters, and many of them were killed 
or wounded. Two of Braddock's aides were 
seriously wounded, and their duties devolved 
upon Washington in addition to his own. 
He passed repeatedly over the field, carrying 
the orders of the commander and encourag- 
ing the men. When sent to bring up the 
artillery, he found it surrounded by Indians, 
its commander, Sir Peter Halket, killed, and 
the men standing helpless from fear. 

Springing from his horse, he appealed to 
the men to save the guns, pointed a field- 
piece and discharged it at the savages and 
entreated the gunners to rally. He couW 
accomplish nothing by either his words o<j 
example. The men deserted the guns and 
fled. In a letter to his brother, Washington 
wrote : " I had four bullets through my coat, 
two horses shot under me, yet escaped un- 
hurt, though death was levelling my com- 
panions on every side around me." 

James D. McCabe. 



Descriptive and Dramatic Recitations 



■#?~*-t£#- 



QUICK! MAN THE LIFE-BOAT! 

This selection demands great vivacity and intense dramatic expression. Each reference to the life-boat 
requires rapid utterance, elevated pitch and strong tones of command. Point to the life-boat ; you are to 
see it, and make your audience see it. They will see it in imagination if you do ; that is, if you speak and 
tct as if you stood on the shore and actually saw the life-boat hurrying to the rescue. 




UICK ! man the life-boat 1 See yon bark 
That drives before the blast ? 

There's a rock ahead, the fog is 
dark, 

And the storm comes thick and fast. 
Can human power, in such an hour, 
5 Avert the doom that's o'er her? 
Her mainmast's gone, but she still drives on 
To the fatal reef before. 

The life-boat ! Man the life-boat I 

Qukk ! man the life-boat ! hark 1 the gun 

Booms through the vapory air ; 
And see ! the signal flags are on, 

And speak the ship's despair. 
That forked flash, that pealing crash, 

Seemed from the wave to sweep her : 
She's on the rock, with a terrible shock— 

And the wail comes louder and deeper. 
The life-boat ! Man the life-boat ! 

Quick ! man the life-boat ! See — the crew 

Gaze on their watery grave : 
Already, some, a gallant few, 

Are battling with the wave j 



And one there stands, and wrings his hand; 

As thoughts of home come o'er him ; 
For his wife and child, through the tempest wild, 

He sees on the heights before him. 
The life-boat ! Man the life-boat I 

Speed, speed the life- boat ! Off she goes ! 

And, as they pulled the oar, 
From shore and ship a cheer arose, 

That startled ship and shore. 
Life-saving ark 1 yon fated bark 

Has human lives within her; 
_*.ud dearer than gold is the wealth untold, 

Thou' It save if thou canst win her. 

On, life-boat ! Speed thee, life-boat? 

Hurrah ! the life-boat dashes on, 

Though darkly the reef may frown j 
The rock is there — the ship is gone 

Full twenty fathoms down. 
But cheered by hope, the seamen cope 

With the billows single-handed ; 
They are all in the boat ! — hurrah I they're afloat i 

And now they are safely landed 

By the life-boaf ! Cheer the life-bo»t! 



BEAUTIFUL HANDS. 



tS I remember the first fair touch 
Of those beautiful hands that I kne.so 
much, 
^"""' I seem to thrill as I then was thrilled 
Kissing the glove that I found unfilled — 
When I met your gaze and the queenly bow 
As you said to me laughingly, "Keep it now ! " 



And dazed and alone in a dream I stand 
Kissing the ghost of your beautiful hand. 

When first I loved in the long ago. 
And held your hand as I told you so— 
Pressed and caressed it and gave it a kiss, 
And said, " I could die for a hand like this ' 

167 



168 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



Little I dreamed love's fullness yet 

Had I to ripen when eyes were wet, 

And prayers were vain in their wild demands 

For one warm touch of your beautiful hands. 

Beautiful hands ! O, beautiful hands ! 
Could you reach out of the alien lands 



Where you are lingering, and give me to-night 

Only a touch — were it ever so light — 

My heart were soothed, and my weary brain 

Would lull itself into rest again ; 

For there is no solace the world commands 

Like the caress of your beautiful hands. 

Jam'-s Whitcomb Riley. 



THE BURNING SHIP. 

The general character of this selection is intensely dramatic. It is a most excellent piece for any one 
who has the ability and training to do it full justice. The emotions of agony, horror and exultation are here, 
and should be made prominent. Let the cry of " Fire ! " ring out in startling tones, and let your whole 
manner correspond with the danger and the excitement of the scene. The rate throughout should be rapid. 

The figures in the text refer you to the corresponding numbers of Typical Gestures, at the beginning of 
Part II of this volume. Insert other gestures of your own. 



(•) I HE storm o'er the ocean flew furious and 
i I fast, 

-*~ And the waves rose in foam at the voice 
of the blast, 
And heavily 2 labored the gale-beaten ship, 
Like a stout-hearted swimmer, the spray at his 

lip; 
And dark 21 was the sky o'er the mariner's path, 
Save when the wild lightning illumined in wrath, 
A young mother knelt in the cabin below, 
And pressing her babe to her bosom of snow, 
She prayed to her God, 20 'mid the hurricane wild, 
"O Father, have mercy, look down on my 
child ! " 

It passed — the fierce whirlwind careered on its 

way, 
And the ship like an arrow ,6 divided the spray ; 
Her sails glimmered white in the beams of the 

moon, 
And the wind up aloft seemed to whistle a tune 

— to whistle a tune. 

There was joy 16 in the ship as she furrowed the 

foam, 
For fond hearts within her were dreaming of 

home. 
The young mother pressed her fond babe to her 

breast, 
And the husband sat cheerily down by her side, 
And looked with delight on the fac« of his bride. 



" Oh, 16 happy, " said he, "when our roaming is 

o'er, 
We'll dwell in our cottage that stands by the 

shore. 
Already in fancy its roof I descry, 
And the smoke of its hearth curling up to the sky j 
Its garden so green, and its vine-covered wall ; 
The kind friends 9 awaiting to welcome us all, 
And the children that sport by the old oaken 

tree." 

Ah gently the ship glided over the sea ! 

Hark 1 l3 what was that ? Hark I Hark to the 
shout ! 

"Fire!" 10 Then a tramp and a rout, and a 
tumult of voices uprose on the air ; — 

And the mother knelt 8 down, and the half- 
spoken prayer, 

That she offered to God in her agony wild, 

Was, "Father, have mercy { look down on my 
child!" 

She flew tc her husband, 1 she clung to his side, 

Oh there was her refuge whate'er might betide, 

"Fire!" 10 "Fire!" It was raging above and 

below — 
And the cheeks of the sailors grew pale at the sight, 
And their eyes glistened wild in the glare of the 

light, 
'Twas vain o'er the ravage the waters to drip ; 
The pitiless flame was the lord of the ship, 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



16ft 



And tne smoke in thick wreaths mounted higher 

and higher. 
" O God, 20 it is fearful to perish by fire." 
Alone with destruction, alone on the sea, 
" Great Father of mercy, our hope is in thee." 

Sad at heart and resigned, yet undaunted and 

brave, 
They lowered the boat, 2 a mere speck on the 

wave. 
First entered the mother, enfolding her child : 
It knew she caressed it, looked 16 upward and 

smiled 



Cold, cold was the night as they drifted away, 
And mistily dawned o'er the pathway the day — 
And they prayed for the light, and at noontide 

about, 
The sun 16 o'er the waters shone joyously out. 

" Ho ! a sail ! 7 Ho ! a sail ! " cried the man at 

the lee, 
"Ho ! a sail! " 7 and they turned their glad eyes 

o'er the sea. 
" They see us, they see us, 11 the signal is waved ! 
They bear down upon us, they bear down upon 

us: Huzza! we are saved." 



THE UNKNOWN SPEAKER. 



IT is the Fourth day of July, 1776. 
In the old State House in the city of 
Philadelphia are gathered half a hundred 
men to strike from their limbs the shackles of 
British despotism. There is silence in the 
hall — every face is turned toward the door 
where the committee of three, who have been 
out all night penning a parchment, are soon 
to enter. The door opens, the committee 
appears. The tall man with the sharp fea- 
tures, the bold brow, and the sand-hued hair, 
holding the parchment in his hand, is a Vir- 
ginia farmer, Thomas Jefferson. That stout- 
built man with stern look and flashing eye, 
is a Boston man, one John Adams. And 
that calm-faced man with hair drooping in 
thick curls to his shoulders, that is the Phil- 
adelphia printer, Benjamin Franklin. 

The three advance to the table. 

The parchment is laid there. 

Shall it be signed or not ? A fierce debate 
ensues, Jefferson speaks a few bold words. 
Adams pours out his whole soul. The deep- 
toned voice of Lee is heard, swelling in 
syllables of thunder like music. But still 
there is doubt, and one pale-faced man whis- 
pers something about axes, scaffolds and a 
gibbet 



"Gibbet?" echoed a fierce, bold voice 
through the hall. " Gibbet ? They may 
stretch our necks on all the gibbets in the 
land ; they may turn every rock into a scaf- 
fold ; every tree into a gallows ; every home 
into a grave, and yet the words of that parch- 
ment there can never die ! They may pour 
our blood on a thousand scaffolds, and yet 
from every drop that dyes the axe a new 
champion of freedom will spring into birth. 
The British King may blot out the stars oi 
God from the sky, but he cannot blot out 
His words written on that parchment there* 
The works of God may perish. His words 
never ! 

"The words of this declaration will live 
in the world long after our bones are dust. 
To the mechanic in his workshop they will 
speak hope ; to the slave in the mines, free- 
dom ; but to the coward-kings, these words 
will speak in tones of warning they cannot 
choose but hear. 

" They will be terrible as the flaming sylla- 
bles on Belshazzar's wall ! They will speak 
in language startling as the trump of the 
Archangel, saying : ' You have trampled on 
mankind long enough ! At last the voice of 
human woe has pierced the ear of God, and 



170 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



called His judgment down 1 You have 
waded to thrones through rivers of blood ; 
you have trampled on the necks of millions 
of fellow-beings. Now kings, now purple 
hangmen, for you come the days of axes and 
gibbets and scaffolds.' 

" Such is the message of that declaration 
to mankind, to the kings of earth. And 
shall we falter now? And shall we start 
back appalled when our feet touch the very 
threshold of Freedom ? 

" Sign that parchment 1 Sign, if the next 
moment the gibbet's rope is about your 
neck! Sign, if the next minute this hall 
rings with the clash of the falling axes I 
Sign by all your hopes in life or death as 
men, as husbands, as fathers, brothers, sign 
your names to the parchment, or be accursed 
forever 1 

" Sign, and not only for yourselves, but for 
all ages, for that parchment will be the text- 
book of freedom — the Bible of the rights of 
men forever. Nay, do not start and whisper 
with surprise 1 It is truth, your own hearts 
witness it ; God proclaims it. Look at this 
strange history of a band of exiles and out- 
casts, suddenly transformed into a people — a 
handful of men weak in arms — but mighty 
in God-like faith ; nay, look at your recent 
achievements, your Bunker Hill, your Lex- 
ington, and then tell me, if you can, that God 
has not given America to be free ! 

" It is not given to our poor human intel- 
lect to climb to the skies, and to pierce the 
councils of the Almighty One. But me- 
thinks I stand among the awful clouds which 
veil the brightness of Jehovah's throne. 

" Methinks I see the recording angel come 
trembling up to that throne to speak his 
dread message. 'Father, the old world is 
baptized in blood. Father, look with one 
glance of thine eternal eye, and behold ever- 
more that terrible sight, man trodden beneath 
the oppressor's feet, nations lost in blood, | 



murder and superstition walking hand in 
hand over the graves of their victims, and 
not a single voice to whisper hope to 
man ! ' 

" He stands there, the angel, trembling 
with the record of human guilt. But hark I 
The voice of Jehovah speaks out from the 
awful cloud : ' Let there be light again \ 
Tell my people, the poor and oppressed, to 
go out from the old world, from oppres- 
sion and blood, and build my altar in the 
new!' 

"As I live, my friends, I believe that to be 
His voice ! Yes, were my soul trembling on 
the verge of eternity, were this hand freezing 
in death, were this voice choking in the last 
struggle, I would still with the last impulse 
of that soul, with the last wave of that hand, 
with the last gasp of that voice, implore 
you to remember this truth — God has given 
America to be free ! Yes, as I sank into the 
gloomy shadows of the grave, with my last 
faint whisper I would beg you to sign that 
parchment for the sake of the millions whose 
very breath is now hushed in intense expec- 
tation as they look up to you for the awful 
words, ' You are free ! ' *' 

The unknown speaker fell exhausted in his 
seat; but the work was done. % 

A wild murmur runs through the hall. 
" Sign ! " There is no doubt now. Look 
how they rush forward ! Stout-hearted John 
Hancock has scarcely time to sign his bold 
name before the pen is grasped by another — 
another and another. Look how the names 
blaze on the parchment! Adams and Lee, 
Jefferson and Carroll, Franklin and Sherman, 

And now the parchment is signed. 

Now, old man in the steeple, now bare you* 
arm and let the bell speak! Hark to the 
music of that bell ! Is there not a poetry in 
that sound, a poetry more sublime than thai 
of Shakespeare awd Milton ? Is there not a 
music in that sound that reminds you of those 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



17; 



sublime tones which broke from angel lips 
when the news of the child Jesus burst on 
the hill-tops of Bethlehem ? For the tones 



of that bell now come pealing, pealing, peal- 
ing, " Independence now and Independence 
forever." 



CHILD LOST. 

It used to be a custom to have a man go through the town ringing a bell and " crying ' any thing was 
lost. You should imitate the crier, at the same time swinging your hand as if ringing a bell. This selection 
requires a great variety in the manner, pitch of the voice and gestures of the reader. 




INE," by the Cathedral clock! 
Chill the air with rising damps ; 
Drearily from block to block 
In the gloom the bellman 
tramps — 
"Child lost! Child lost 1 

Blue eyes, curly hair, 
Pink dress— child lost ! " 

Something in the doleful strain 

Makes the dullest listener start; 
And a sympathetic pain 

Shoot to every feeling heart. 
Anxious fathers homeward haste, 

Mus ; ng with paternal pride 
Of their daughters, happy-faced, 

Silken-haired and sparkling-eyed. 
Many a tender mother sees 

Younglings playing round her chair, 
Thinking, " If 'twere one of these, 

How could I the anguish bear? " 

" Ten," the old Cathedral sounds j 
Dark and gloomy are the streets ; 
Still the bellman goes his rounds, 
Still his doleful cry repeats — 
" Oh, yes ! oh, yes ! 

Child lost ! Blue eyes, 
Curly hair, pink dress — 
Child lost! Child lost!" 

"Can't my little one be found? 

Are there any tidings, friend ?" 
Cries the mother, " Is she drowned? 

Is she stolen ? God forfend I 



Search the commons, search tne parks, 

Search the doorway anu th h 
Search the alleys, foul a^d dark. 

Search the empt\ market stalls 
Here is gold an! silver see ! 

Take it all and welcome, man 
Only bring my child to me, 

Let me have my child again." 

Hark ! the old Cathedral bell 

Peals " eleven," and it sounds 
To the mother like a knell ; 

Still the bellman goes his rounds 
"Child lost! Child lost! 

Blue eyes curly hair, 
Pink dress - chilli lost ! " 

Half aroused from dreams o acf 

Many hear the lonesome call. 
Then into their beds of ease 

Into deeper slumber fall ; 
But the anxious mother cries, 

" Oh, my darling's curly hair! 
Oh, her sweetly-smiling eyes ! 

Have you sought her everywhere? 
Long and agonizing dread 

Chills mv heart and drives me wild— 
What if Minnie should be dead? 

God, in mercy, find my child!" 

"Twelve" by the Cathedral clock; 
Dimly shine the midnight lamp*; 
Drearily from blor k to block, 
In the rain the bellman tramps. 
"Child lost! Child lost! 

Blue eyes, curly hair, 
Pink dress — child lostl" 



J 72 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



THE CAPTAIN AND THE FIREMAN. 




PIN us a yarn of the sea, old man, 
About some captain bold, 
Who steered his ship and made her 
slip 
When the sea and the thunder rolled ; 
Some tale that will stir the blood, you know, 
Like the pirate tales of old. 

"* It was the old ' tramp ' Malabar, 

With coal for Singapore j 
* The captain stood upon the bridge ' 

And loud the wind did roar, 
Aud far upon the starboard bow 
We saw the stormy shore. 

" The night came down as black as pitch j 
More loud the wind did blow ; 

The waves made wreck around the deck 
And washed us to and fro ; 

But half the crew, though wild it blew, 
Were sleeping down below. 

" * The captain stood upon the bridge,' 

And I was at the wheel ; 
The waves were piling all around, 

Which made the old ' tank ' reel, 
When — smash ! there came an awful crash 

That shook the ribs of steel. 

" ' We've struck a wreck ! ' ' Stand by the 
pumps ! ' 
Her plates were gaping wide ; 
And out her blood streamed in the flood, 

The wreck had bruised her side ; 
Her coal poured out — her inky blood — 
And stained the foaming tide. 

•• ' The captain stood upon the bridge,' 

The firemen down below ; 
He saw and knew what he could do, 

While they but heard the blow. 
The bravest man is he that stands 

Against an unseen foe. 

*' ' All hands on deck ! ' was now the cry, 
' For we are sinking fast ; 



Our boats were stove by that last wave— * 
This night will be our last ; 

There's not a plank on board the tank,' 
She's steel, from keel to mast ' 

" ' The captain stood upon the bridge; * 
All hands were now on deck ; 

The waves went down, the sun came up 
We saw the drifting wreck, 

And there, upon the starboard bow, 
The land — a distant speck. 

" 'Who'll go below and fire her up?" 
The captain loud did roar. 
' We're dumping coal with every roll, 

But, see ! the storm is o'er ; 
And I will stand upon the bridge, 
And guide her to the shore.' 

" ' I'll go for one,' said old ' Tramp Jim,* 
' And shovel in the coal. 
I'll go,' said Jim, all black and grim, 
' Though death be down that hole ; 
I've heard a man who dies for men 
Is sure to save his soul. 

" ' So turn the steam into that mill, 

And let it spin around, 
And I will feed the old thing coal 

Till you be hard aground ; 
I'll go alone, there's none to moan, 

If old ' Tramp Jim ' be drowned 1 ' 

"He went below and fired her up, 

The steam began to roar ; 
' The captain stood upon the bridge ' 

And steered her for the shore ; 
The ship was sinking by the bow, 
Her race was nearly o'er. 

"The water rose around poor Jim, 

Down in the fire-room there. 

'I'll shovel in the coal,' he gasped, 

' 'Till the water wets me hair — 

The Lord must take me as I am, 

I have no time for prayer.' 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



17* 



** 'The captain stood upon the bridge.' 
(Oh, hang that phrase, I say ! 
'The firemen bravely stood below,' 

Suits more this time of day,) 
Old Jim kept shovelling in the coal, 
Though it was time to pray. 



" And every soul was saved, my lads, 
Why do I speak it low ? 
The Lord took Jim, all black and grim, 

And made him white as snow. 
Some say, ' the captain on the bridge,' 
But I say, ' Jim below I ' " 

W. B. Collison. 



THE FACE ON THE FLOOR. 

This is one of many recitations in this volume that have proved their popularity by actual test. 
Face on the Floor," when well recited, holds the hearers spell-bound. 



The 



(5 I WAS a balmy summer evening, and a goodly 
4 I crowd was there 

-*- That well nigh filled Joe's barroom on 
the corner of the square, 
And as songs and witty stories came through the 

open door ; i 

A vagabond crept slowly in and posed upon the 
floor. 

"Where did it come from?" some one said; 

" The wind has blown it in." 

"What does it want?" another cried, "Some 

whiskey, beer or gin ? " 
" Here, Toby, seek him, if your stomach's equal 

to the work, 
I wouldn't touch him with a fork, he's as filthy 

as a Turk." 

This badinage the poor wretch took with stoical 
good grace, 

In fact, he smiled as if he thought he'd struck the 
proper place; 

"Come, boys, I know there's kindly hearts 
among so good a crowd ; 

To be in such good company would make a dea- 
con proud. 

" Give me a drink ! That's what I want, I'm 

out of funds, you know, 
When I had cash to treat the gang, this hand 

was never slow ; 
What ? You laugh as if you thought this pocket 

never held a sou ; 
I once was fixed as well, my boys, as any one Of 

you. 



"There, thanks, that braced me nicely, God 
bless you, one and all, 

Next time I pass this good saloon I'll make another 
call; 

Give you a song? No, I can't do that, my sing- 
ing days are past, 

My voice is cracked, my throat's worn out and 
my lungs are going fast. 

" Say, give me another whiskey and I'll tell you 

what I'll do— 
I'll tell you a funny story, and a fact, I promise, 

too; 
That I was ever a decent man, not one of you 

would think, 
But I was, some four or five years back, say, give 

us another drink. 

" Fill her up, Joe, I want to put some life into 
my frame — 

Such little drinks to a bum like me are miserably 
tame; 

Five fingers — there, that's the scheme — and cork- 
ing whiskey, too, 

Well, boys, here's luck, and landlord, my best 
regards to you. 

" You've treated me pretty kindly and I'd like 

to tell you how 
I came to be the dirty sot you see before you now; 
As I told you, once I was a man, with muscle, 

frame and health, 
And, but for a blunder, ought to have made 

considerable wealth. 
" I was a painter — not one that daubed on brick" 

and wood, 



174 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



But an artist, and, for my age, was rated pretty 

good; 
I worked hard at my canvas, and was bidding fair 

to rise ; 
For gradually I saw the star of fame before my 

eyes. 

"I made a picture, perhaps you've seen, 'tis 

called the Chase of Fame; 
}t brought me fifteen hundred pounds, and added 

to my name; 
And u:en, I met a woman — now comes the funny 

part — 
With eyes thai petrified my brain, and sunk into 

my heart. 

" Why don't you laugt* ? 'Tis funny that the 
vagabond you see 

Could ever love a woman and expect her love 
for me ; 

But 'twas so, and for a month or two her smile 
was freely given ; 

And when her loving lips touched mine, it car- 
ried me to heaven. 

" Boys, did you ever see a girl for whom your 

soul you'd give, 
With a form like the Milo Venus, too beautiful 

to live, 
With eyes that would beat the Kohinoor and a 

wealth of chestnut hair ? 
If so, 'twas she, for there never was another half 

so fair. 

" I was working on a portrait one afternoon in 

May, 
Of a fair-haired boy, a friend of mine who lived 

y'oss the way, 



And Madeline admired it, and much to my surprise 
Said that she'd like to know the man that had 
such dreamy eyes. 

"It didn't take long to know him, and before 

the month had flown/ 
My friend had stole my darling, and I was left 

alone ; 
And ere a year of misery had passed above my head, 
The jewel I had treasured so had tarnished and 

was dead. 

"That's why I took to drink, boys. Why, I 
never saw you smile, 

I thought you'd be amused and laughing all the 
while ; 

Why, what's the matter, friend? There's a tear- 
drop in your eye, 

Come, laugh like me, 'tis only babes and women 
that should cry. 

" Say, boys, if you'll give me another whiskey, 

I'll be glad, 
And I'll draw right here, the picture of the face 

that drove me mad ; 
Give me that piece of chalk with which you mark 

the base-ball score — 
And you shall see the lovely Madeline upon the 

bar-room floor." 

Another drink, and with chalk in hand, the vag- 
abond began 

To sketch a face that well might buy the soul of 
any man, 

Then, as he placed another lock upon the shapely 
head, 

With a fearful shriek he leaped and fell across 
the picture — dead. 

H. ANTOtNE D'Arcv. 



THE ENGINEER'S STORY. 



K'SOM, stranger? Yes, she's purty 
an' ez peart ez she can be. 
Clever? Wy ! she ain't no chicken, 
but she's good enough fur me. 
What's her name ? 'Tis kind o' common, yit I 

ain't ashamed to tell, 
She's ole "Fiddler" Filkin's daughter, an' her 
dad he calls her " Nell." 



I wuz drivin' on the " Central " jist about a yea. 

ago 
On the run from Winnemucca up to Reno in 

Washoe. 
There's no end o' skeery place*. 'Taint a road 

fur one who dreams, 
With its curves an' awful tres'les over rocks an 

mountain streams. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



m 



'Twuz an afternoon ir» August, we hed got be- 
hind an hour 

An' wuz tearin' up the mountain like a summer 
thunder-shower, 

Round the bends an' by the hedges 'bout ez fast 
ez we could go, 

With the mountain-peaks above us an' the river 
down below. 

Ez we come nigh to a tres'le 'cros't a holler, 

deep an' wild, 
Suddenly I saw a baby, 'twuz the stationkeeper's 

child, 
Toddlin' right along the timbers with a bold and 

fearless tread 
Right afore the locomotive, not a hundred rods 

ahead. 

1 jist jumped an' grabbed the throttle an' I fa'rly 

held my breath, 
Fur I felt I couldn't stop her till the child wuz 

crushed to death, 
When a woman sprang afore me like a sudden 

streak o* light, 
Caught the boy and twixt the timbers in a second 

sank from sight. 



I jist whis'l'd all the brakes on. An' we worked 

with might an' main 
Till the fire flew from the drivers, but we couldn't 

stop the train, 
An' it rumbled on above her. How she screamed 

ez we rolled by 
An' the river roared below us — I shall hear her 

till I die ! 

Then we stop't ; the sun was shinin' ; I ran back 

along the ridge 
An' I found her — dead ? No ! livin' ! She wuz 

hangin' to the bridge 
Wher she drop't down thro' the cross-ties with 

one arm about a sill 
An' the other round the baby, who wuz yelliu* 

fur to kill ! 

So we saved 'em. She wuz gritty. She's ez 

peart ez she kin be — 
Now we're married ; she's no chicken, but she's 

good enough fur me, 
An' ef eny ask who owns her, wy ! I ain't 

ashamed to tell — 
She's my wife. Ther' ain't none better than ole 

Filkin's daughter "Nell." 

Eugene J. Hall. 



JIM. 




"E was jes' a plain, ever' -day, all-round 
kind of a jour., 
9 \ Consumpted lookin' — but la ! 

The jokeyest, wittyest, story-tellin', 
song-singin', laughin'est, jolliest 
Feller you ever saw ! 
Worked at jes' coarse work, but you kin bet he 
was fine enough in his talk, 
And his feelin's, too ! 
Lordy ! ef he was on'y back on his bench again 
to-day, a carryin' on 
Like he ust to do ! 

\ny shop-mate' 11 tell you they never was on top 
o'dirt 
A better feller'n Jim ! 
STou want a favor, and couldn't git it anywheres 
* 1 *§ — 

irou could git it o' him I 



Most free-heartedest man thataway in the world, 
I guess ! 

Give ever' nickel he's worth — 
And, ef you'd a-wanted it, and named it to him, 
and it was his, 

He'd a-give you the earth ! 

Alius a-reachin' out, Jim was and a-helpin' 
some 

Poor feller onto his feet — 
He'd a-never a-keered how hungry he was his 
se'f. 

So's the feller got somepin to eat ! 
Didn't make no difference at all to him how he 
was dressed, 

He used to say to me : 
"You tog out a tramp purty comfortable in wi&. 
ter-time, 

And he'll git along ! " says he. 



176 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



Jim didn't have, nor never could git ahead, so 
overly much 
O' this world's goods at a time — 
'Fore now I've saw him, more'n onc't lend a 
dollar and ha'f to 

Turn 'round and borry a dime ! 
Mebby laugh and joke about hisse'f fer awhile — 
then jerk his coat, 
And kind o' square his chin, 
Tie his apern, and squat hisse'f on his old shoe 
bench 

And go peggin' agin. 

Patientest feller, too, I reckon, at every jes' nat- 
urally 

Coughed hisse'f to death ! 
Long enough after his voice was lost he'd laugh 
and say, 

He could git ever' thing but his breath — 



"You fellers," he'd sort o' twinkle his eyes and 
say, 

"Is pilin' onto me 
A mighty big debt for that air little weak-chested 
ghost o' mine to pack 
Through all eternity ! " 

Now there was a man 'at jes' 'peared like to me, 

'At ortn't a-never died ! 
" But death hain't a-showin no favors," the old 
boss said, 

" On'y to Jim," and cried : 
And Wigger, 'at put up the best sewed work in 
the shop, 

Er the whole blamed neighborhood, 
He says, "When God made Jim, I bet you He 
didn't do anything else that day, 
But jes' set around and feel good. ' ' 

James Whitcomb Rilev. 



QUEEN VA5HTFS LAMENT. 



IS this all the love that he bore me, my hus- 
band, to publish my face 
To the nobles of Media and Persia, whose 
_ hearts are besotted and base ? 

Did he think me a slave, me, Vashti, the Beauti- 
ful, me, Queen of queens, 
To summon me thus for a show to the midst of 
his bacchanal scenes ? 

I stand like an image of brass, I, Vashti, in sight 

of such men ! 
No, sooner, a thousand times sooner, the mouth 

of the lioness' den, 
When she's fiercest with hunger and love for the 

hungry young lions that tear 
Her teats with sharp, innocent teeth, I would 

enter, far rather than here ! 

Did he love me, or is he, too, though the King, 

but a brute like the rest ! 
I have seen him in wine, and I fancied 'twas then 

that he loved me the best : 
Though I think I would rather have one sweet, 

passionate word from the heart 
Than a year of caresses that may with the wine 

that creates them depart. 



But ever before, in his wine, toward me h<5 

showed honor and grace ; 
He was King, I was Queen, and those nobles, he 

made them remember their place. 
But now all is changed; I am vile, they are 

honored, they push me aside, 
A butt for Memucan and Shethar and Meres, gone 

mad in their pride ! 

Shall I faint, shall I pine, shall I sicken and die 

for the loss of his love ? 
Not I ; I am queen of myself, though the star9 

fall from heaven above. 
The stars I ha ! the torment is there, for my 

light is put out by a star, 
That has dazzled the eyes of the King and his 

court and his captains of war. 

He was lonely, they say, and he looked, as he 

sat like a ghost at his wine, 
On the couch by his side, where, of yore his 

Beautiful used to recline. 
But the King is a slave to his pride, to his oath 

and the laws of the Medes, 
And he cannot call Vashti again though his poor 

heart is wounded and bleeds. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



177 



So they sought through the land for a wife, while 
the King thought of me all the while — 

I can see him, this moment, with eyes that are 
lost for the loss of a smile, 

Gazing dreamily on while each maiden is tempt- 
ingly passed in review, 

While the love in his heart is awake with the 
thought of a face that he knew ! 

Then she came when his heart was grown weary 

with loving the dream of the past ! 
She is fair — I could curse her for that, if I 

thought that this passion would last ! 
But e'en if it last, all the love is for me, and, 

through good and through ill, 
The/King shall remember his Vashti, shall think 

of his Beautiful still. 

Oh ! the day is a weary burden, the night is a 

restless strife, — 
i am sick to the very heart of my soul, with this 

life — this death in life ! 
Oh ! that the glorious, changeless sun would 

draw me up in his might, 
And quench my dreariness in the flood of his 

everlasting light ! 



What is it t Oft as I lie awake and my pillow is 
wet with tears, 

There comes — it came to me just now — a flash, 
then disappears ; 

A flash of thought that makes this life a re-en- 
acted scene, 

That makes me dream what was, will be, and 
what is now, has been. 

And I, when age on age has rolled, shall sit ox. 

the royal throne, 
And the King shall love his Vashti, his Beautiful, 

his own, 
And for the joy of what has been and what again 

will be, 
I'll try to bear this awful weight of lonely misery t 

The star ! Queen Esther ! blazing light that 

burns into my soul ! 
The star ! the star ! Oh ! flickering light of life 

beyond control I 
O King ! remember Vashti, thy Beautiful, thy 

own, 
Who loved thee and shall love thee still, when 

Esther's light has flown ! 

John Reade. 



THE SKELETON'S STORY. 

It will require all the dramatic power of which you are capable to recite this selection and do it 
full justice. Be wide-awake, quick in tone and gesture, shouting at one time, whispering at another, 
speaking with your whole body. The emotions of fear and horror are especially prominent. 



fT is two miles ahead to the foot-hills — 
two miles of parched turf and rocky 
space. To the right — the left — be- 
hind, is the rolling prairie. This broad val- 
ley strikes the Sierra Nevadas and stops as 
if a wall had been built across it. 

Ride closer ! What is this on the grass ? 
A skull here — a rib there — bones scattered 
about as the wild beasts left them after the 
horrible feast. The clean-picked skull grins 
and stares — every bone and scattered lock 
of hair has its story of a tragedy. And what 
besides these relics? More bones — not 
scattered, but lying in heaps — a vertebra 



with ribs attached — a fleshless skull bleach- 
ing under the Summer sun. Wolves ! Yes. 
Count the heaps of bones and you will 
find nearly a score. Open boats are picked 
up at sea with neither life nor sign to 
betray their secret. Skeletons are found 
upon the prairie, but they tell a plain story 
to those who halt beside them. Let us 
listen : 

Away off to the right you can see tree- 
tops. Away off to the left you can see the 
same sight. The skeleton is in line between 
the two points. He left one grove to ride 
to the other. To ride ! Certainly ¥ 9- mile 



178 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



away is the skeleton of a horse or mule. The 
beast fell and was left there. 

It is months since that ride, and the trail 
has been obliterated. Were it otherwise, 
and you took it up from the spot where the 
skeleton horse now lies, you would find the last 
three or four miles made at a tremendous pace. 
' "Step! step! step!" 

What is it ? Darkness has gathered over 
mountain and prairie as the hunter jogs along 
over the broken ground. Overhead the 
countless stars look down upon him — around 
him is the pall of night. There was a patter 
of footsteps on the dry grass. He halts and 
peers around him, but the darkness is too deep 
for him to discover any cause for alarm. 

"Patter! patter! patter!" 

There it is again ! It is not fifty yards 
from where he last halted. The steps are 
too light for those of an Indian. 

" Wolves ! " whispers the hunter, as a 
howl suddenly breaks upon his ear. 

Wolves ! The gaunt, grizzly wolves of the 
foot-hills — thin and poor and hungry and sav- 
age — the legs tireless — the mouth full of teeth 
which can crack the shoulder-bone of a buffalo. 
He can see their dark forms flitting from point 
to point — the patter of their feet upon the 
parched grass proves that he is surrounded. 

Now the race begins. A line of wolves 
spread out to the right and left, and gallops 
after — tongues out — eyes flashing — great 
flakes of foam flying back to blotch stone 
and grass and leave a trail to be followed by 
the cowardly coyotes. 

Men ride thus only when life is the stake. A 
horse puts forth such speed only when terror 
follows close behind and causes every nerve to 
tighten like a wire drawn until the scratch of 
a finger makes it chord with a wail of despair. 
The line is there — aye ! it is gaining ! Inch by 
inch it creeps up, and the red eye takes on a 
more savage gleam as the hunter cries out to 
his horse and opens fire from his revolvers. 



A wolf falls on the right — a second on th% 
left. Does the wind cease blowing because it 
meets a forest ! The fall of one man in a mad 
mob increases the determination of the rest. 

With a cry so full of the despair that wells 
up from the heart of the strong man when 
he gives up his struggle for life that the 
hunter almost believes a companion rides 
beside him, the horse staggers — recovers — 
plunges forward — falls to the earth. It was 
a glorious struggle ; but he has lost. 

There is a confused heap of snarling, fight- 
ing, maddened beasts, and the line rushes 
forward again. Saddle, bridle, and blanket 
are in shreds — the horse a skeleton. And 
now the chase is after the hunter. He has 
half a mile the start, and as he runs the veins 
stand out, the muscles tighten, and he won- 
ders at his own speed. Behind him are the 
gaunt bodies and the tireless legs. Closer, 
closer, and now he is going to face fate like 
a brave man should. He has halted. In an 
instant a circle is formed about him — a cir- 
cle of red eyes, foaming mouths, and yellow 
fangs which are to meet in his flesh. 

There is an interval — a breathing spell. 
He looks up at the stars — out upon the night. 
It is his last hour, but there is no quaking — 
no crying out to the night to send him aid. 
As the wolves rest, a flash blinds their eyes 
— a second — a third — and a fourth, and they 
give before the man they had looked upon 
as their certain prey. But it is only for a 
moment. He sees them gathering for the 
rush, and firing his remaining bullets among 
them he seizes his long rifle by the barrel 
and braces to meet the shock. Even a sav- 
age would have admired the heroic fight he 
made for life. He sounds the war-cry and 
whirls his weapon around him, and wolf 
after wolf falls disabled. He feels a strange 
exultation over the desperate combat, and as 
the pack give way before his mighty blows a 
gleam of hope springs up in his heart. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



179 



It is only for a moment; then the circle 
narrows. Each disabled beast is replaced 
by three which hunger for blood. There is 
a rush — a swirl — and the cry of despair is 
drowned in the chorus of snarls as the pack 
fight over the feast. 

The gray of morning — the sunlight of noon- 



day — the stars of evening will look down 
upon grinning skull and whitening bones, 
and the wolf will return to crunch them 
again. Men will not bury them. They will 
look down upon them as we look, and ride 
away with a feeling that 'tis but another dark 
Isecret of the wonderful prairie. 



THE LADY AND THE EARL. 

The figures in the text of this piece indicate the gestures to be made, as shown in Typical Gestures, at 
the beginning of Part II. of this volume. 



(TIT SAW her in the festive halls, in scenes of 

H I -pride and TS glee, 

oU^ "Mongst many beautiful and fair, but none 

so fair as she ; 
Her's was the most attractive* form that mingled 

in the scene, 
And all who saw her said she moved a goddess 

and a queen. 

The diamond blazed in her dark hair and bound 
her polished brow, 

And precious gems were clasped around her swan- 
like neck of snow ; 

And Indian looms had lent their stores to form 
her sumptuous dress, 

And art with nature joined to grare her passing 
loveliness. 

I looked upon her and I said, who' is so blessed 

as she? 
A creature she all light and life, all beauty and 

all glee ; 
Sure,' sweet content blooms on her cheek and on 

her brow a pearl, 
And she was 1 young and innocent, the Lady of 

the Earl. 

But as I looked more carefully, I saw that radiant 

smile 
Was but assumed in mockery, the unthinking to 

to beguile. 
Thus have I seen a summer rose in all its beauty 

bloom, 
When it has" shed its sweetness o'er a cold and 

lonely tomb. 



She struck the harp, and when they praised her 

skill she turned aside, 
A rebel tear of conscious woe *° and memory to 

hide; 
But when she raised her head she looked so 1 * 

lovely, so serene, 
To gaze in her proud eyes you'd think a tear had 

seldom been. 

The humblest maid in rural life can 8 boast a hap- 
pier fate 

Than she, the beautiful and good, in all her rank 
and state; 

For she was sacrificed, 10 alas I to cold and selfish 
pride 

When her yorrg lips had breathed the vow to be 
a soldier's bride. 

Of late I viewed her move along,' the idol of the 
crowd ; 

A few short months elapsed, and then, 1 ' I kissed 
her in her shroud ! 

And o'er her splendid monument I saw the hatch- 
ment wave, 

But there was one proud heart* which did more 
honor to her grave. 

A warrior dropped his plumed head upon her 

place of rest, 
And with his feverish lips the name of Ephilinda 

pressed ; 
Then breathed a prayer, and cheeked the groan 

of parting pain, 
And as he left the tomb he said, 11 *" Vet we shall 

meet again." 



180 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



MY VESPER SONG. 



KILLED with weariness and pain, 
Scarcely strong enough to pray, 
In this twilight hour I sit, 
Sit and sing my doubts away. 
O'er my broken purposes, 

Ere the coming shadows roll, 
Let me build a bridge of song : 
" Jesus, lover of my soul." 

" Let me to Thy bosom fly 1 " 

How the words my thoughts repeat: 
To Thy bosom, Lord, I come, 

Though unfit to kiss Thy feet. 
Once I gathered sheaves for Thee, 

Dreaming I could hold them fast : 
Now I can but faintly sing, 

" Oh ! receive my soul at last." 

I am weary of my fears, 

Like a child when night comes on : 
In the shadow, Lord, I sing, 

" Leave, oh, leave me not alone." 



Through the tears I still must shed, 
Through the evil yet to be, 

Though I falter while I sing, 

" Still support and comfort me." 

" All my trust on Thee is stayed ; " 

Does the rhythm of the song 
Softly falling on my heart, 

Make its pulses firm and strong ? 
Or is this Thy perfect peace, 

Now descending while I sing, 
That my soul may sleep to-night 

" 'Neath the shadow of Thy wing ? ! 

" Thou of life the fountain art ; " 
If I slumber on Thy breast, 
If I sing myself to sleep, 

Sleep and death alike are rest. 
Not impatiently I sing, 
Though I lift my hands and cry 
"Jesus, lover of my soul, 

Let me to Thy bosom fly." 



THE VOLUNTEER ORGANIST. 

With distinct enunciation give the dialect in this piece, and assume the character of a countryman Wm 
is telling this story. Guard against being vulgar or too commonplace. 



fHE gret big church wuz crowded full uv 
broadcloth an' of silk, 
An' satins rich as cream thet grows on our 
ol' brindle's milk ; 
Shined boots, biled shirts, stiff dickeys, an' stove- 
pipe hats were there, 
An' dudes 'ith trouserloons so tight they couldn't 

kneel down in prayer. 
The elder in his poolpit high said, as he slowly riz : 
"Our organist is kep' to hum, laid up 'ith roomatiz, 
An' as we hev no substitoot, as brother Moore 

ain't here, 
Will some 'un in the congregation be so kind 's 
to volunteer ? " 

An' then a red-nosed, blear-eyed tramp, of low- 
toned, rowdy style, 

Give an interductory hiccup, an' then swaggered 
up the aisle. 



Then thro' that holy atmosphere there crep' a 

sense er sin, 
An' thro' thet air of sanctity the odor uv oF 

gin. 

Then Deacon Purington he yelled, his teeth all 

set on edge : 
"This man perfanes the house er God! W'y, 

this is sacrilege! " 
The tramp didn' hear a word he said, but slouchev 

'ith stumblin' feet, 
An' stalked an' swaggered up the steps, an' gained 

the organ seat. 

He then went pawin' thro' the keys, an' soon 

there rose a strain 
Thet seemed to jest bulge out the heart, an' 'lec- 

trify the brain ; 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



181 



An* then he slapped down on the thing 'ith hands 

an' head an' knees, 
He slam-dashed his hull body down kerflop upon 

the keys. 

The organ roared, the music flood went sweepin' 

high an' dry, 
it swelled into the rafters, an' bulged out into 

the sky; 
The ol' church shook and staggered, an' seemed 

to reel an' sway, 
An' the elder shouted " Glory 1 " an' I yelled out 

"Hooray!" 

An' then he tried a tender strain thet melted in 

our ears, 
Thet brought up blessed memories and drenched 

'em down 'ith tears; 
An' we dreamed uv ol' time kitchens, 'ith Tabby 

on the mat, 
Tu home an' luv an' baby days, an' mother, an' 

all that ! 

An' then he struck a streak uv hope — a song from 
souls forgiven — - 



Thet burst from prison bars uv sin, an' stormed 

the gates uv heaven ; 
The morning stars together sung — no soul wuz 

left alone — 
We felt the universe wuz safe, an' God was on 

His throne ! 

An' then a wail of deep despair an' darkness 

come again, 
An' long, black crape hung on the doors uv all 

the homes uv men ; 
No luv, no light, no joy, no hope, no songs of 

glad delight, 
An' then — the tramp, he swaggered down an* 

reeled out into the nfght ! 

But we knew he'd tol' his story, tho' he never 

spoke a word, 
An' it was the saddest story thet our ears had 

ever heard ; 
He hed tol' his own life history, an' no eye was 

dry thet day, 
Wen the elder rose an' simply said: "My 

brethren, let us pray." S. W. Foss. 



IF a body meet a body 
Comin' thro' the rye, 
If a body "kiss a body, 
Need a body cry? 
Ev'ry lassie has her laddie, 

Nane they say ha'e I, 
Yet all the lads they smile at me 
When comin' thro' the rye. 

If a body meet a body, 
Comin' frae the town ; 

If a body meet a body, 
Need a body frown ? 



> 



COMIN' THRO 7 THE RYE. 

Ev'ry lassie has her laddie, 
Nane they say ha'e I, 

Yet all the lads they smile at me 
When comin' thro' the rye. 

Amang the train there is a swain, 

I dearly love mysel', 
But what's his name, or where's his hame 

I dinna choose to tell. 
Ev'ry lassie has her laddie, 

Nane they say ha'e I, 
Yet all the lads they smile at me 

When comin' thro 1 the rye. 
_ Robert Burns. 



(5 I WA! 

4„ 



JOAN OF ARC. 



WAS in the days of chivalry, when steel- 
clad warriors swore 
To bear their ladies' favors amidst the 
battle's roar. 



To right the wrongs of injured maids, the lance 

in rest to lay, 
And nobly fall in honor's cause or triumph in 

the fray. 



# 



J 82 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



But not to-day a lance is couched, no waving 
plume is there, 

No war-horse sniffs the trumpet's breath, no ban- 
ner woos the air ; 

No crowding chiefs the tilt-yard throng to quench 
the thirst of fame, 

Though chiefs are met, intent to leave their 
names eternal shame ! 

A still and solemn silence reigned, deep darkness 
veiled the skies, 

And Nature, shuddering, shook to see the im- 
pious sacrifice ! 

Full in the centre of the lists a dreadful pile is 
reared, 

Awaiting one whose noble soul death's terrors 
never feared, 

Gaul's young Minerva, who had led her country- 
men to fame, 

And foremost in the battle rent that conquered 
country's chain ; 

Who, when the sun of fame had set that on its 
armies shone, 

Its broken ranks in order set, inspired and led 
them on ; 

The low-born maid "that, clad in steel, restored a 
fallen king, 

Who taught the vanquished o'er their foes trium- 
phal songs to sing ; 

Whose banner in the battle's front the badge of 
conquest streamed, 

And built again a tottering throne, a forfeit 
crown redeemed ! 

But when her glorious deeds were done, Fate 

sent a darker day, 
The blaze of brightness faded in murkiest clouds 

away; 
And France stood looking idly on, nor dared to 

strike a blow, 
Her guardian angel's lif- :o save, but gave it to 

the foe ! 
Ungrateful France her saviour's fate beheld with 

careless smile, 
While Superstition, hiding hate and vengeance, 

fired the pile ! 

What holy horror of her crime is looked by 
yonder priest, 



Like that grim bird that hovers nigh, and scents 

the funeral feast ! 
Is this the maiden's triumph, won in battle's 

dreadful scenes, 
Whose banner so triumphant flew before thy 

walls, Orleans ! 

Hark to the trumpet's solemn sound ! Low roll 
the muffled drums 

As slowly through the silent throng the sad pro- 
cession comes; 

Wrapp'd in the garments of the grave, the corselet 
laid aside, 

Still with Bellona's step she treads, through all 
her woes descried. 

As beautiful her features now as when inspired 

she spoke 
Those oracles that slumbering France to life and 

action woke : 
The majesty yet haunts her looks, that late so 

dreadful beamed 
In war, when o'er her burnished arms the long 

rich tresses streamed, 
She gazes on the ghastly pile, tho' pale as marble 

stone ; 
'Twas not with fear, for from her lips escaped no 

sigh nor groan ; 
But she, her country's saviour, thus to render up 

her breath — 
That was a pang far worse than all the bitterness 

of death ! 

'Twas done; the blazing pile is fired, the flames 

have wrapped her round ; 
The owlet shrieked, and circling flew with dull, 

foreboding sound ; 
Fate shuddered at the ghastly sight, and smiled 

a ghostly smile ; 
And fame and honor spread their wings above 

the funeral pile. 
But, phcenix-like, her spirit rose from out the 

burning flame, 
More beautiful and bright by far than in her 

days of fame. 
Peace to her spirit 1 Let us give her memory to 

renown, 
Nor on her faults or failings dwell, but draw thf 

curtain down. Clare S. McKinley. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 
THE VULTURE OF THE ALPS. 



183 



This selection is narrative, yet it is narrative intensely dramatic. Imagine the feelings of a parent who 
sees the "youngest of his babes" torn away from his embrace by a vulture and carried away in mid-air. 
Let your tones, attitudes and gestures all be strong. Picture the flight of a mountain eagle with uplifted 
arm, and depict with an expression of agony the grief of the parent. 



I'VE been among the mighty Alps, and wan- 
dered through their vales, 
And heard the honest mountaineers relate 
their dismal tales, 
As round the cottage blazing hearth, when their 

daily work was o'er, 
They spake of those who disappeared, and ne'er 
were heard of more. 

And there I from a shepherd heard a narrative of 

fear, 
A tale to rend a mortal heart, which mothers 

might not hear : 
The tears were standing in his eyes, his voice was 

tremulous. 
But, wiping all those tears away he told his story 

thus : — 

" It is among these barren cliffs the ravenous 

vulture dwells, 
Who never fattens on the prey which from afar 

he smells ; 
But, patient, watching hour on hour upon a lofty 

rock, 
He singles out some truant lamb, a victim, from 

the flock. 

" One cloudless Sabbath summer morn, the sun 

was rising high, 
When from my children on the green, I heard a 

fearful cry, 
As if some awful deed were done, a shriek of 

grief and pain, 
A cry, I humbly trust in God, I ne'er may hear 

again. 

" I hurried out to learn the cause ; but, over- 
whelmed with fright, 

The children never ceased to shriek, and from 
my frenzied sight 

I missed the youngest of my babes, the darling 
of my care, 

But something caught my searching eyes, slow 
sailing through the air. 



" Oh 1 what an awful spectacle to meet a father's 

eye! 
His infant made a vulture's prey, with terror to 

descry I 
And know, with agonizing breast, and with a 

maniac rave, 
That earthly power could not avail, that innocent 

to save ! 

"My infant stretched his little hands imploringly 

to me, 
And struggled with the ravenous bird, all vainly 

to get free, 
At intervals, I heard his cries, as loud he shrieked 

and screamed ; 
Until, upon the azure sky, a lessening spot he 

seemed. 

"The vulture flapped his sail-like wings, though 
heavily he flew, 

A mote upon the sun's broad face he seemed 
unto my view : 

But once I thought I saw him stoop, as if he 
would alight ; 

'Twas only a delusive thought, for all had van- 
ished quite. 

"All search was vain, and years had passed; 

that child was ne'er forgot, 
When once a daring hunter climbed unto a lofty 

spot, 
From whence, upon a rugged crag the chamois 

never reached, 
He saw an infant's fleshless bones the elements 

had bleached 1 

" I clambered up that rugged cliff; I could not 
stay away ; 

I knew they were my infant's bones thus hasten- 
ing to decay ; 

A tattered garment yet remained, though torn to 
many a shred, 

The crimson cap he wore that morn was still 
upon the bead." 



184 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



That dreary spot is pointed out to travelers pass- 
ing by, 

Who often stand, and, musing, gaze, nor go 
without a sigh. 



And as I journeyed, the next morn, along my 

sunny way, 
The precipice was shown to me, whereon the 

infant lay. 



THE OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. 



(b I HERE'S an old-fashioned girl in an old- 
* I fashioned street, 

-*- Dressed in old-fashioned clothes from her 
head to her feet, 
And she spends all her time in the old-fashioned 

way, 
Of caring for poor people's children all day. 

She never has been to cotillion or ball, 

And she ^nows not the styles of the spring or the fall 



Two hundred a year will suffice for her needs, 
And an old-fashioned Bible is all that she 
reads. 

And she has an old-fashioned heart that is true 
To a fellow who died in an old coat of blue, 
With its buttons all brass — who is waiting above 
For the woman who loved him with old-fashioned 
love. i 

Tom Hall, 



NATHAN HALE, THE MARTYR SPY. 

After the disastrous defeat of the Americans on Long Island, Washington desired information respect* 
ing the British position and movements. Captain Nathan Hale, but twenty-one years old, volunteered to 
procure the information. He was taken and hanged as a spy the day after his capture, September 22, 
1776. His patriotic devotion, and the brutal treatment he received at the hands of his captors, have sug* 
gested the following. Put your whole soul into this piece, especially Hale's last speech. It rises to the 
sublime. 

r5 in the year that gave the nation birth ; 
A time when men esteemed the com- 
mon good 
As greater weal than private gain. A battle 

fierce 
And obstinate had laid a thousand patriots low, 
And filled the people's hearts with gloom. 



Pursued like hunted deer, 
The crippled army fled ; and, yet, amid 
Disaster and defeat, the Nation's chosen chief 
Resolved his losses to retrieve. But not 
With armies disciplined and trained by years 
Of martial service, could he, this Fabian chief, 
Now hope to check the hosts of Howe's victor- 
ious legions — 
These had he not. 

In stratagem the shrewder general 
Ofttimes o'ercomes his strong antagonist. 



To Washington a knowledge of the plans, 
Position, strength of England's force, 
Must compensate for lack of numbers. 

He casts about for one who'd take his life 
In hand. Lo ! he stands before the chief. In face, 
A boy — in form, a man on whom the eye could 

rest 

In search of God's perfected handiwork. 
In culture, grace and speech, reflecting all 
A mother's love could lavish on an only son. 

The chieftain's keen discerning eye 
Appraised the youth at his full worth, and saw 
In him those blending qualities that make 
The hero and the sage. He fain would save 
For nobler deeds a man whose presence marked 
A spirit born to lead. 

" Young man," he said with kindly air, 
"Your country and commander feel grateful thai 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



185 



Sucu talents are offered in this darkening hour. 
Have you in reaching this resolve considered well 
Your fitness, courage, strength — the act, the risk, 
You undertake? " 
The young man said : " The hour demands a 

duty rare — 
Perhaps a sacrifice. If God and training in 
The schools have given me capacities 
This duty to perform, the danger of the enter- 
prise 
Should not deter me from the act 
Whose issue makes our country free. In times 
Like these a Nation's life sometimes upon 
A single life depends. If mine be deemed 
A fitting sacrifice, God grant a quick 
Deliverance " 

" Enough, go then, at once," the great 
Commander said. " May Heaven's guardian 

angels give 
You safe return. Adieu.' 

Disguised with care, the hopeful captain 
crossed 
The bay, and moved through British camp 
Without discovery by troops or refugees. 
The enemy's full strength, in men, in stores, 
Munitions, guns — all military accoutrements 
Were noted with exact precision ; while 
With graphic sketch, each trench and parapet, 
Casemated battery, magazine and every point 
Strategic, was drawn with artist's skill. 

The task complete, the spy with heart 
Elate, now sought an exit through the lines. 
Well might he feel a soldier's pride. An hour 

hence 
A waiting steed would bear him to his friends. 
His plans he'd lay before his honored chief; 
His single hand might turn the tide of war, 
His country yet be free. 

" Halt! " a British musket leveled at 
; His head dimmed all the visions of his soul. 
A dash — an aimless shot ; the spy bore down 
Upon the picket with a blow that else 
Had freed him from his clutch, but for a score 
Of troopers stationed near. In vain the struggle 



And desperate — in vain demands to be released. 

A tory relative, for safety quartered in 

The British camp, would prove his truckling 

loyalty 
With kinsman's blood, a word — a look — 
A motion of the head, and he who'd dared 
So much in freedom's name was free no more, 

Before Lord Howe the captive youth 

Was led. " Base dog 1 " the haughty general 
said, 

" Ignoble son of loyal sires ! you've played the 
spy 

Quite well I ween. The cunning skill where- 
with 

You wrought these plans and charts might well 
adorn 

An honest man ; but in a rebel's hands they're 
vile 

And mischievous. If ought may palliate 

A traitor's act, attempted in his sovereign's 
camp, 

I bid you speak ere I pronounce your sentence." 

With tone and mien that hushed 
The buzzing noise of idle lackeys in the hall, 
The patriot thus replied : " You know my name — 
My rank; — my treach'rous kinsman made 
My purpose plain. I've nothing further of my- 
self 
To tell beyond the charge of traitor to deny. 
The brand of spy I do accept without reproach ; 
But never since I've known the base ingratitude 
Of king to loyal subjects of his realm 
Has British rule been aught to me than barbarous 
Despotism which God and man abhor, and none 
But dastards fear to overthrow. 
For tyrant loyalty your lordship represents 
I never breathed a loyal breath ; and he 
Who calls me traitor seeks a pretext for a crime 
His trembling soul might well condemn." 

"I'll hear no more such prating cant," 
Said Howe, "your crime's enough to hang a 

dozen men. 
Before to-morrow's sun goes down you'll swing 
'Twixt earth and heaven, that your countryme- 
May know a British camp is dangero>»s fy.evf/ 
For prowling spies, Away I " 



186 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



Securely bound upon a cart, amid 
A. speechless crowd, he stands beneath a strong 
Projecting limb, to which a rope with noose 

attached, 
Portends a tragic scene. He casts his eyes 
Upon the surging multitude. Clearly now 
His tones ring out as victors shout in triumph ; 

" Men, I do not die in vain, 
My humble death upon this tree will light anew 
The Torch of liberty. A hundred hands to one 
Before will strike for country, home and God, 
And fill our ranks with men of faith in His 



Eternal plan to make this people free. 

A million prayers go up this day to free 

The land from blighting curse of tyrant's rule. 

Oppression's wrongs have reached Jehovah'* 

throne ; 
The God of vengeance smites the foe I Thit 

land, — 
This glorious land,— is free — is free I 

" My friends, farewell 1 In dying thus 
I feel but one regret ; it is the one poor life 
I have to give in Freedom's cause." 

L H. Brown. 






THE FUTURE. 



They shall find real saints to draw from — Magda- 
lene, Peter and Paul ; 

They shall work for an age at a sitting and never 
be tired at all J 

And only the Master shall praise us, and only the 

Master shall blame I 
And no one shall work for money, and no one 

shall work for fame ; 
But each for the joy of the working, and each, in 

his separate star, 
Shall draw the Thing as he sees it for the God of 

Things as They Are! 

RUDYARD KlPLINO. 

THE POWER OF HABIT. 

Adapted to the development of transition in pitch, and a very spirited utterance. When you are able 
to deliver this as Mr. Gough did, you may consider yourself a graduate in the art of elocution. 



HEN Earth's last picture is painted, and 

the tubes are twisted and dried, 
When the oldest colors have faded, and 
the youngest critic has died, 
We shall rest, and, faith, we shall need it — lie 

down for an aeon or two, 
Till the Master of all Good Workmen shall set 
us to work anew 1 

A.nd those that were good shall be happy ; they 

shall sit in a golden chair; 
They shall splash at a ten-league canvas with 

brushes of comets' hair; 



f REMEMBER once riding from Buffalo 
to the Niagara Falls. I said to a gen- 
tleman, " What river is that, sir?" 
"That," said he, "is Niagara River." 
" Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I ; 
" bright and fair and glassy. How far off are 
the rapids?" 

"Only a mile or two," was the reply. 
" Is it possible that only a mile from us we 
shall find the water in the turbulence which 
it must show near the Falls ? " 



" You will find it so, sir." And so I found 
it; and the first sight of Niagara I shall never 
forget. 

Now, launch your bark on that Niagara 
River; it is bright, smooth, beautiful and 
glassy. There is a ripple at the bow ; 
the silver wake you leave behind adds to 
your enjoyment. Down the stream you 
glide, oars, sails, and helm in proper trim, 
and you set out on your pleasure excur- 
sion. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



187 



Suddenly some one cries out from the 
bank, " Young men, ahoy 1" 

"What is it?" 

" The rapids are below you ! " 

" Ha 1 ha ! we have heard of the rapids ; 
but we are not such fools as to get there. If 
we go too fast, then we shall up with the 
helm, and steer to the shore ; we will set the 
ma?t in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed 
to the land. Then on, boys; don't be 
alarmed, there is no danger." 

" Young men, ahoy there ! " 

" What is it ? " 

" The rapids are below you ! " 

"Ha! hal we will laugh and quaff; all 
things delight us. What care we for the 
future ? No man ever saw it. Sufficient for 
the day is the evil thereof. We will enjoy 
life while we may, will catch pleasure as it 
flies. This is enjoyment; time enough to 



steer out of danger when we are sailing 
swiftly with the current." 

"Young men, ahoy!" 

"What is it?" 

" Beware ! beware ! The rapids are below 
you I *' 

" Now you see the water foaming all 
around. See how fast you pass that point ! 
Up with the helm ! Now turn ! Pull hard ! 
Quick! quick! quick! pull for your lives! 
pull till the blood starts from your nostrils, 
and the veins stand like whip cords upon your 
brow ! Set the mast in the socket 1 hoist the 
sail ! Ah ! ah ! it is too late ! Shrieking, 
blaspheming, over they go." 

Thousands go over the rapids of intemper- 
ance every year, through the power of habit, 
crying all the while, " When I find out that 
it is injuring me, I will give it up!" 

John B. Gough. 



DIED ON DUTY. 

The following lines were written by a comrade, on the death of Engineer Billy Ruffin, who lost his life 
by an accident that occurred on the Illinois Central Railroad, in Mississippi. 




ILL RUFFIN to some wouldn't rank 
very high, being only an engineer ; 
But he opened the throttle with a 
steady grip, and didn' t know nothin' like fear ; 
For doin' his duty and doin' it right, he was 

known all along the line, 
And with him in the box of 258, you might figger 
" you'd be thar on time." 

Bill was comin' down the run, one Monday night, 

a pullin' of No. 3, 
Just jogging along at a 30 gait, and a darker 

night you never see. 
They had struck the trestle twenty rod north of 

old Tallahatchie bridge, 
Where the water backs up under the track, with 

here and there a ridge. 

Bill had come down that run a hundred times, 
and supposed that all was right 



But the devil's own had been at work, and loos- 
ened a rail that night ; 

When, gods of mercy ! what a shock and crash ! 
then all so quiet and still. 

And old 258 lay dead in the pond, and the train 
piled up on the fill. 

The crew showed up one by one, looking all 

white and chill, 
Anxious to see if all were on deck, but whar on 

airth wuz Bill ? 
But it wasn't long before they knew, for there in 

the pond was the tank, 
Stickin' clus to her engine pard, and holdin* 

Bill down by the shank. 

When the boys saw what orter be done, they 

went to work with a vim, 
But willin' hands doin' all they would, couldn't 

rize tons offen him j 



188 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DP \MATIC RECITATIONS. 



Bill stood thar, brave man that he was, as the 

hours went slowly by, 
Seemin' to feel, if the rest wur scared, he was 

perfectly willin' to die. 

Just before daylight looked over the trees, they 

brought poor Bill to the fire, 
And done the best they could for him in a place 

that was all mud and mire ; 
But they done no good, 'twant no use; he had 

seen his last of wrecks ; 
And thar by the fire that lit up his brave face, 

poor Bill passed in his checks. 

When they raised old 258 again, the story she 
did tell 



Was that the hero in her cab had done his duty 

well; 
They found her lever thrown hard, her throttle 

open wide, 
Her air applied so close and hard that every 

wheel must slide. 



Thar's a wife and two kids down the line, whose 

sole dependence wuz Bill, 
Who little thought when he came home he'd be 

brought cold and still ; 
But tell them, tho' Bill was rough by natur' and 

somewhat so by name, 
That thar's a better land for men like him, and 

he died clear grit just the same. 



MY FRIEND THE CRICKET AND I. 




r , aY friend the Cricket and I 

Once sat by the fireside talking ; 
"This life," I said, "is such 
weary work; " 
Chirped Cricket, " You're always croaking." 
"It's rowing against baith wind an' tide, 

And a' for the smallest earning." 
"^Ah! weel," the merry Cricket replied, 
"But the tide will soon be turning." 



"And then," I answered, " dark clouds may rise, 

And winds with the waters flowing." 
" Weel ! keep a bit sunshine in your heart, 

It's a wonderfu' help in rowing." 
" But many a boat goes down at sea : " 

" O ! friend, but you're unco trying, 
Pray how many more come into port, 

With a' tlwir colors flying ? 



" Would ye idly drift with changing tides, 

Till lost in a sea of sorrow ? ' ' 
"Ah ! no, good Cricket, I'll take the oars 

And cheerfully row to-morrow." 
"I would ! I would ! Yes, I would ! " he chirped, 

While I watched the bright fire burning, 
" I would ! I would ! Yes, I'd try again, 

For the tide must have a turning." 



So all the night long through the drowsy hours 

I heard, like a cheerful humming — 
" I would ! I would ! Yes, I'd try again, 

Ye never ken what is coming." 
So I tried again : — now the wind sets fair, 

And the tide is shoreward turning, 
And Cricket and I chirp pleasantly 

While the fire is brightly burning. 

Lillie E. Barr. 



THE SNOW STORM. 



(&J\ FARMER came from the village plain, 
L1A But he lost the traveled way ; 

yel^ y And for hours he trod with might 

and main 
A path for his horse and sleigh ; 

But colder still the cold winds blew, 

And deeper still the deep drifts grew, 



And his mare, a beautiful Morgan brown, 
At last in her struggles, floundered down, 
Where a log in a hollow lay. 

In vain, with a neigh and a frenzied snort, 

She plunged in the drifting snow, 
While her master urged, till his breafti grew short, 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



189 



With a word and a gentle blow. 
But the snow was deep, and the tugs were tight ; 
His hands were numb and had lost their might ; 
So he wallowed back to his half-filled sleigh, 
And strove to shelter himself till day, 

With his coat and the buffalo. 

He has given the last faint jerk of the rein, 

To rouse up his dying steed ; 
And the poor dog howls to the blast in vain 

For help in his master's need. 
For a while he strives with a wistful cry 
To catch a glance from his drowsy eye, 
And wags his tail if the rude winds flap 
The skirt of the buffalo over his lap, 

And whines when he takes no heed. 

The wind goes down and the storm is o'er, 
'Tis the hour of midnight, past ; 



The old trees writhe and bend no more 

In the whirl of the rushing blast. 
The silent moon with her peaceful light 
Looks down on the hills with snow all white, 
And the giant shadow of Camel's Hump, 
The blasted pine and the ghostly stump 

Afar on the plain are cast. 

But cold and dead by the hidden log 
Are they who came from the town : 
The man in his sleigh, and his faithful dog, 

And his beautiful Morgan brown — 
In the wide snow-desert, far and grand, 
With his cap on his head and the reins in his 

hand — 
The dog with his nose on his master's feet, 
And the mare half seen through the crusted sleet, 
Where she lay when she floundered down. 



PARRHASIUS AND THE CAPTIVE. 

This is a picture of inordinate ambition. It should be represented by a voice of cold indifference to 
Auman suffering. The flame of selfish passion is wild and frenzied. 



'-I'r^vARRHASIUS stood, gazing forgetfully 
|N^»/ Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay, 
|vQ Chained to the cold rocks of Mount 
Caucasus — 
The vulture at his vitals, and the links 
Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh ; 
And as the painter's mind felt through the dim, 
Rapt mystery, and pluck' d the shadows forth 
With its far-reaching fancy, and with form 
And color clad them, his fine, earnest eye 
Flashed with a passionate fire, and the quick curl 
Of his thin nostril, and his quivering lip, 
Were like the winged god's, breathing from his 
flight. 

" Bring me the captive now ! 
My hand feels skillful, and the shadows lift 
From my waked spirit airily and swift, 

And I could paint the bow 
Upon the be~hded heavens — around me play 
Colors of such divinity to-day. 

" Ha I bind him on his back ! 
Look I — as Prometheus in my picture here I 



Quick — or he faints! — stand with the cordial 
near! 
Now — bend him to the rack ! 
Press down the poisoned links into his flesh \ 
And tear agape that healing wound afresh I 

" So — let him writhe ! How long 
Will he live thus? Quick, my good pencil, nowl 
What a fine agony works upon his brow ! 

Ha ! gray-haired, and so strong ! 
How fearfully he stifles that short moan ! 
Gods ! if I could but paint a dying groan ! 

"'Pity' thee! Soldo! 
I pity the dumb victim at the altar — 
But does the robed priest for his//Vy falter? 

I'd rack thee, though I knew 
A thousand lives were perishing in thine — 
What were ten thousand to a fame like mine } 

' ' ' Hereafter ! ' Ay —hereafter / 
A whip to keep a coward to his track ! 
What gave Death ever from his kingdom back 

To check the skeptic's laughter? 



190 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



Come from the grave to-morrow with that story 
And I may take some softer path to glory. 

" No, no, old man 1 we die 
Even as the flowers, and we shall breathe away 
Our life upon the chance wind, even as they ! 

Strain well thy fainting eye — 
For when that bloodshot quivering is o'er, 
The light of heaven will never reach thee more. 

" Yet there's a deathless name ! 
A spirit that the smothering vault shall spurn, 
And like a steadfast planet mount and burn — 

And though its crown of flame 
Consumed my brain to ashes as it shone, 
By all the fiery stars 1 I'd bind it on ! 

"Ay — though it bid me rifle 
My heart's last fount for its insatiate thirst — 
Though every life-strung nerve be maddened 
first— 

Though it should bid me stifle 
The yearning in my throat for my sweet child, 
And taunt its mother till my brain went wild — 

"All— I would do it ail- 
Sooner than die, lie a dull worm, to rot — 
Thrust foully into earth to be forgot \ 

O heavens !"— but I appall 



Your heart, old man ! forgive ha 1 on your ! tcs 

Let him not faint ! — rack him till he revives / 

" Vain — vain — give o'er ! His eye 
Glazes apace. He does not feel you now — 
Stand back ! I' 11 paint the death dew on his brow t 

Gods ! if he do not die 
But for one moment — one — till I eclipse 
Conception with the scorn of those cold lips' 

" Shivering ! Hark ! he mutters 
Brokenly now — that was a difficult breath — 
Another ? Wilt thou never come, O Death I 

Look ! how his temple flutters ! 
Is his heart still ? Aha ! lift up his head ! 
He shudders — gasps — Jove help him ! — so — he's 
dead." 

How like a mounting devil in the heart 
Rules the unreined ambition I Let it once 
But play the monarch, and its haughty brow 
Glows with a beauty that bewilders thought 
And unthrones peace forever. Putting on 
The very pomp of Lucifer, it turns 
The heart to ashes, and with not a spring 
Left in the bosom for the spirit's lip, 
We look upon our splendor and forget 
The thirst of which we perish ! 

N. P. Willis. 



THE NINETY-THIRD OFF CAPE VERD. 

The figures refer you to the Typical Gestures at the beginning of Part II, of this volume, 
gestures of your own. A good recital for animated description. 



Use othet 



I 



T is night upon the ocean 
Near old Afric's shore ; 
Loud the wind wails o'er the water, 
Loud the waters roar. 

Dark o'erhead n the storm-clouds gather, 

Huge waves mountains form, 
As a stout * old ship comes struggling 

On against the storm. 

Hark ! • e'en now across the billows 

On the wind there floats, 
Sharp and shrill, the boatswain's whistle 

Sounding, 6 " Man the boats 1 " 



At the sound, from cabin doorways, 

Rushing out headlong, 
Pours a weeping, 10 shrieking, shuddering, 

Terror-stricken throng. 

Men, and women with their children, 

Weak and pale from fright, 
Praying, w cursing, hurry onward 

Out Into the night. 

But the lightning's M frequent flashes 

By their ghastly sheen, 
Further forward in the vessel, 

Show another scene. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



191 



From the crowd of trembling women, 

And of trembling men, 
See ! J a soldier presses forward, 

Takes his place, and then — 

"Fall in ! " * Then comes the roll-call. 
Every man is at his post, 
Although now they hear the breakers 
Roaring on the coast. 

u Present arms ! " 5 And till the life- boats 
With their precious freight 



Have been lowered safely downward 
Thus they stand and wait. 

And then, as the staunch old vessel 

Slowly sinks at last, 
Louder than the ocean's roaring, 

Louder than the blast, 

O'er the wildly raging water, 

Echoing far and near, 
Hear u the soldiers' dying volley, 

Hear their dying cheer. 



A FELON'S CELL. 



An Intensely dramatic reading, requiring 

I'M going to a felon's cell, 
To stay there till I die; 
They say my hands are stained with 
blood, 
But they who say it — lie. 
The court declared I murdered one 

I would have died to save ; 
I know who did the awful deed, 
I saw, but could not save. 

I saw the knife gleam in his hand, 

I heard the victim's shriek; 
My feet seem chained, I tried to run, 

But terror made me weak. 
Reeling, at length I reached the spot 

Too late — a quivering sigh — 
The pale moon only watched with me 

To see a sweet girl die. 

The reeking blade lay at my feet, 

The murderer had fled ; 
I stooped to raise the prostrate form, 

To lift the sunny head 
Of her I loved, from out the pool 

Her own sweet blood had made j 
That knife was fairly in my way, 

I raised the murderous blade. 

Unmindful of all else, beside 

That lovely, bleeding corse. 
Unheeding the approaching steps 

Of traveler and horse. 



rapid changes of voice and gesture. 

I raised the knife ; it caught the gleam 
Of the full moon's bright glare, 

One instant, and the next strong arms 
Pinioned mine firmly there. 

They led me forth, mute with a woe 

Too deep for word or sign , 
The knife within my hand the court 

Identified as mine. 
My name was graven on the hilt, — 

The letters told a lie ; 
They doomed me to a felon's cell 

To stay there till I die. 

And yet, I did not do the deed ; 

The moon, if she could speak, 
Would lift this anguish from my brow, 

This shame from off my cheek. 
I was not born with gold or lands 

Nor was I born a slave, 
My hands are free from blood, — and ye* 

I'll fill a felon's grave. 

And I, who last year played at ball 

Upon the village green, 
A stripling, on whose lips the sign 

Of manhood scarce is seen, 
Whose greatest crime (if crime it be) 

Was loving her too well, 
Must leave this beautiful, glad world 

For a dark prison cell. 



192 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



I had just begun to learn to live 

Since I laid by my books, 
And I had grown so strangely fond 

Of forest, spring, and brook, 
I read a lesson in each drop 

That trickled through the grass, 
And found a sermon in the flow 

Of wavelets, as they pass. 

Dear woodland haunts ! I leave your shade ; 

No more at noon's high hour 
I'll list the sound of insect life, 

Or scent the sweet wild flower. 
Dear mossy banks, by murmuring streams, 

'Tis hard to say good-bye ! 
To leave you for a felon's cell, 

Where I must stay and die. 

Farewell all joy and happiness ! 

Farewell all earthly bliss ! 
All human ties must severed be,— 

Aye, even a mother's kiss 
Must fail me now ; in this my need 

O God ! to Thee I cry ! 
Oh ! take me now, ere yet I find 

A grave wherein to lie. 

Mother, you here ! Mother, the boy 

You call your poet child 
Is innocent ! His hands are clean, 

His heart is undefiled. 
Oh ! tell me, mother, am I weak 

To shrink at thought of pain ? 
To shudder at the sound of bolt, 

Grow cold at clank of chain ? 



Oh ! tell me, is it weakness now 

To weep upon your breast, — 
That faithful pillow, where so oft 

You've soothed me to my rest I 

Hark ! 'tis an officer's firm tread, 

God ! Mother, good-bye ! 
They've come to bear me to my cell 

Where I must stay and die. 
They're coming now, I will be strong, 

No, no, it cannot be. 
My giddy brain whirls round in pain, 

Your face I cannot see. 
But I remember when a child 

1 shrank at thought of pain, 
But, oh, it is a fearful thing 

To have this aching brain. 

Pardon I heard I the sound aright ? 

Mine comes from yonder sky ; 
Hold me ! don't let them take me forth 

To suffer till I die ! 
Pardon ! pardon ! came the sound, 

And horsemen galloped fast, 
But 'twas too late ; the dying man 

Was soon to breathe his last. 
The crime's confessed, the guilt made known, 

Quick, lead the guiltless forth. 
"Then I am free ! mother, your hand, 

Now whisper your good-bye, 
I'm going where there are no cells 

To suffer in and die 1 " 



THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 

This soul-stirring account of the historic battle where thrones and empires were staked, is from 
the pen of the great French author whose famous descriptions are unsurpassed by those of any other 
writer. In reciting this piece every nerve must be tense, and soul and body must be animated by the 
imaginary sight of the contending armies. Your utterance should be somewhat rapid, the tones of your 
voice round and full, the words of command given as a general would give them on the field of battle., 
and you must picture to your hearers the thrilling scene in such a way that it may appear to be almost! 
a reality. Otherwise, this very graphic description will fall flat, and the verdict of your audience will be 
that you were not equal to the occasion. 



'5 I HE sky had been overcast all day. All 

_ I at once, at this very moment — it was 

eight o'clock at night — the clouds in 



the horizon broke, and through the elms ol 
the Nivelles road streamed the sinister red 
light of the setting sun 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



m 



Arrangements were speedily made for the 
'hv.a.y effort. Each battalion was commanded 
by a general. When the tall caps of the 
Grenadiers of the Guard with their large 
eagle plates appeared, symmetrical, drawn 
up in line, calm in the smoke of that conflict, 
t'.ie enemy felt respect for France. They 
thought they saw twenty victories entering 
upon the field of battle with wings extended 
and those who were conquerors thinking 
themselves conquered recoiled ; but Welling- 
ton cri? o : " Up, Guards, and at them ! " 

The red regiment of English Guards, lying 
behind the hedges, rose up ; a shower of 
grape riddled the tricolored flag. All hurled 
themselves forward, and the final carnage 
began. The Imperial Guard felt the army 
slipping away around them in the gloom 
and the vast overthrow of the rout. There 
were no weak souls or cowards there. The 
privates of that band were as heroic as their 
general. Not a man flinched from the suicide. 

The army fell back rapidly from all sides 
at once. A disbanding army is a thaw. The 
whole bends, cracks, snaps, floats, rolls, falls > 
crashes, hurries, plunges. Ney borrows a 
horse, leaps upon him, and, without hat, 
cravat, or sword, plants himself in the Brussels 
.'oad, arresting at once the English and the 
French, , He endeavors to hold the army ; 
he calls them back, he reproaches them, he 
grapples with the rout. He is swept ; vay. 
The soldiers flee from him, crying, " Long 
live Ney ! " Durutte's two regiments come 
and go, frightened and tossed between the 
sabres of the Uhlans and the fire of the brig- 
ades of Kempt. Rout is the worst of all 
conflicts; friends slay each other in their 
flight ; squadrons and battalions are crushed 
and dispersed against each other, enormous 
foam of the battle. 

Napoleon gallops among the fugitives, 
harangues them, urges, threatens, entreats. 
The mouths which in the morning were cry» 



ing f Long live the Emperor/' are now 
agape. He is hardly recognized. The Prus- 
sian cavalry, just come up, spring forward 
fling themselves upon the enemy, sabre, cut, 
hack, kill, exterminate. Teams rush off; the 
guns are left to the care of themselves ; the 
soldiers of the train unhitch the caissons and 
take the horses to escape ; wagons ups«*t; 
with their four wheels in the air, block up 
the road, and are accessories of massacre. 

They crush and they crowd; they tram- 
ple upon the living and the dead. Arms are 
broken. A multitude fills roads, paths 
bridges, plains, hills, valleys, woods, choked 
up by this flight of forty thousand men. Cries, 
despair; knapsacks and muskets cast into 
the rye; passages forced at the point of 
the sword; no more comrades, no more 
officers, no more generals ; an inexpressible 
dismay. Lions become kids. Such was this 
flight. 

A few squads of the Guard, immovable in 
the flow of the rout as rocks in running 
water, held out until night. Night approach- 
ing and death also, they awaited this double 
shadow, and yielded unfaltering to its em- 
brace. • At every discharge the square grew 
less, but returned the fire. It replied to 
grape by bullets, narrowing in its four walls 
continually. Afar off, the fugitives, stopping 
for a moment out of breath, heard in the 
darkness this dismal thunder decreasing. 

When this legion was reduced to a hand- 
ful, when their flag was reduced to a shred, 
when their muskets, exhausted of ammuni- 
tion, were reduced to nothing but clubs, when 
the pile of corpses was larger than the group 
of the living, there spread among the con- 
querors a sort of sacred terror about these 
sublime martyrs, and the English artillery, 
stopping to take breath, was silent. It was 
a kind of respite. These combatants had 
about them a swarm of spectres, the outlines 
©f men en horseback the black profile of the 



34 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



cannons, the white sky seen through the 
wheels and gun-carriages. The colossal 
death's head, which heroes always see in the 
smoke of the battle, was advancing 'ipon 
them and glaring at them. 

They could hear in the gloom of the 
twilight the loading of the pieces. The 
lighted matches, like tigers' eyes in the 
night, made a circle about their heads. All 
the linstocks of the English batteries ap- 
proached the guns, when, touched by their 
heroism, holding the death-moment sus- 
pended over these men, an English general 
cried to them : 

" Brave Frenchmen, surrender 1 " 



The word " Never 1 " fierce and desperate 
came rolling back. 

To this word the English general replied, 
" Fire ! " 

The batteries flamed, the hill trembled; 
from all those brazen throats went forth a 
final vomiting of grape, terrific. A vast 
smoke, dusky white in the light of the rising 
moon, rolled out, and when the smoke was 
dissipated, there was nothing left. That for- 
midable remnant was annihilated — the Guard 
was dead ! The four walls of the living re- 
doubt had fallen. Hardly could a quivering 
be distinguished here and there among the 
corpses ; and thus the French legions expired. 

Victor Hugo. 



A PIN. 




H, I know a certain woman who is reck- 
oned with the good, 
But she fills me with more terror than a 
raging lion could. 
The little chills run up and down my spine 

whene'er we meet, 
Though she seems a gentle creatve, and she's 
very trim and neat. 

And she has a thousand virtues,, and not one 

acknowledged sin, 
But she is the sort of person you could liken to a 

pin. 
And she pricks you, and sht sticks you in a way 

that can't be said — 
When you ask for what has hurt you, why you 

cannot find the head. 

But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating 

pain — 
If anybody asks you why, you really can't explain. 
A pin is such a tiny thing — of that there is no 

doubt — 
Yet when it ; s sticking in your flesh, you're 

wretched till it's out. 

She is wonderfully observing — -when she meets a 
pretty girl 



She is always sure to tell her if her "bang" is 

out of curl. 
And she is so sympathetic to her friend, who's 

much admired, 
She is often heard remarking : " Dear, you look 

so worn and tired ! " 

And she is a careful critic ; for on yesterday she 

eyed 
The new dress I was airing with a woman's na; 

ural pride, 
And she said : " Oh, how becoming ! " and then 

softly added to it, 
" It is really a misfortune that the basque ; s such 

a fit." 

Then she said : "If you had heard me yeotereve, 
I'm sure, my friend, 

You would say I am a champion who knows how 
to defend." 

And she left me with the feeling — most unpleas- 
ant, I aver — 

That the whole world would despise me if it had 
not been for her. 

Whenever I encounter her, in such a nameless way, 
She gives me the impression I am at my worst 
that day. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



95 



And the hat that was imported (and that cost me 

half a sonnet), 
With just one glance from her round eye, becomes 

a Bowery bonnet. 

She is always bright and smiling, sharp and shin- 
ing for a thrust — 



Use does not seem to blunt her point, nor does 

she gather rust — 
Oh ! I wish some hapless specimen of mankind 

would begin 
To tidy up the world for me, by picking up this 

pin * Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



A RELENTING MOB. 

Translated from the French of Victor Hugo. 




a 



HE mob was fierce and furious. They cried: 
Kill him ! " the while they pressed from 
every side 

Around a man, haughty, unmoved and brave, 
Too pitiless himself to pity crave. 



" Down with the wretch ! " on all sides rose the 
cry. 
The captive found it natural to die, 
The game is lost — he's on the weaker side, 
Life, too, is lost, and so must fate decide. 

From out his home they dragged him to the 

street, 
With fiercely clenching hands and hurrying feet, 
And shouts of " Death to him 1 " The crimson 

stain 
01 recent carnage on his garb showed plain. 

This man was one of those who blindly slay 
At a king's bidding. He'd shoot men all day, 
Killing he knew not whom, scarce knew why, 
Now marching forth impassible to die, 
Incapable of mercy or of fear, 
Letting his powder-blackened hands appear. 

A woman clutched his collar with a frown, 
" He's a policeman — he has shot us down ! " 
"That's true," the man said. "Kill him!" 

"Shoot him 1" "Kill!" 
'No, at the Arsenal" — "The Bastile!" — 

"Where you wil!," 

The captive answered. And with fiercest breath, 

Loading their guns his captors still cried 

"Death!" 

u We'll shoot him like a wolf ! " "A wolf am I ? 

Then you're the dogs," he calmly made reply. 



" Hark, he insults us ! " And from every side 
Clenched fists were shaken, angry voices cried, 
Ferocious threats were muttered, deep and low. 
With gall upon his lips, gloom on his brow, 
And in his eyes a gleam of baffled hate, 
He went, pursued by howlings, to his fate. 
Treading with wearied and supreme disdain 
'Midst the forms of dead men he perchance 

had slain. 
Dread is that human storm, an angry crowd : 
He braved its wrath with head erect and 

proud. 
He was not taken, but walled in with foes, 
He hated them with hate the vanquished knows, 
He would have shot them all had he the power. 

" Kill him — he's fired upon us for an hour!" 
"Down with the murderer — down with the 
spy!" 

And suddenly a small voice made reply, 
"No — no, he is my father! " And a ray 

Like a sunbeam seemed to light the day. 

A child appeared, a boy with golden hair, 

His arms upraised in menace or in prayer. 

All shouted, "Shoot the bandit, fell the spy 1 " 
The little fellow clasped him with a cry 
Of "Papa, papa, they'll not hurt you now! " 
The light baptismal shone upon his brow. 

From out the captive's home had come the 

child. 
Meanwhile the shrieks of "Kill him — Death ! " 

rose wild. 
The cannon to the tocsin's voice replied, 
Sinister men thronged close on every side. 



<96 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



And in the street ferocious shouts increased 
Of " Slay each spy — each minister — each 

priest — 
We'll kill them all!" The little boy replied : 
"I tell you this is papa." One girl cried 
" A pretty fellow — see his curly head ! " 
"How old are you, my boy ?" another said. 
"Do not kill papa ! " only he replies. 

A soulful lustre lights his streaming eyes, 
Some glances from his gaze are turned away, 
And the rude hands less fiercely grasp their 

prey. 
Then one of the most pitiless says, "Go — 
Get you back home, boy.' ' ' ' Where — why ? ' ' 

"Don't you know? 
Go to your mother. ' ' Then the father said 
•He has no mother." "What — his mothei's 

dead? 
Then you are all he has." " That matters not," 
The captive answers, losing not a jot 
Of his composure as he closely pressed 
The little hands to warm them in his breast. 
And says, " Our neighbor, Catherine you know, 
Go to her." "You'll come too?" "Not 

yet." " No, no. 



Then I'll not leave you." " Why?" « These 

men, I fear, 
Will hurt you, papa, when I am not here." 

The father to the chieftain of the band 

Says softly, " Loose your grasp and take my 

hand, 
I'll tell the child to-morrow we shall meet, 
Then you can shoot me in the nearest street, 
Or farther off, just as you like." " 'Tis well ! " 
The words from those rough lips reluctant fell. 
And, half unclasped, the hands less fierce appear. 
The father says, " You see, we're all friends here, 
I'm going with these gentlemen to walk; 
'Go home. Be good. I have no time to talk.' 
The little fellow, reassured and gay, 
Kisses his father and then runs away. 

"Now he is gone and we are at our ease, 
And you can kill me where and how you 

please," 
The father says, " Where is it I must go ? " 
Then through the crowd a long thrill seems to 

flow, 
The lips, so late with cruel wrath afoam, 
Relentingly and roughly cry, " Go home !" 
Lucy H. Hooper. 



THE BLACK HORSE AND HIS RIDER. 

Slow utterance, rapid utterance, loud tones, subdued tones, quick changes and intense dramatic force 
a/e all required in this reading. Lose yourself in your recitation. Never be self-conscious. 



fT was the 7th of October, 1777. Hora- 
tio Gates stood before his tent gazing 
steadfastly upon the two armies now 
arrayed in order of battle. It was a clear, 
bracing day, mellow with the richness of 
Autumn. The sky was cloudless ; the foliage 
of the wood scarce tinged with purple and 
gold ; the buckwheat in yonder fields frost- 
ened into snowy ripeness. But the tread of 
legions shook the ground ; from every bush 
shot the glimmer of the rifle barrel; on 
every hillside blazed the sharpened bayonet. 
Gates was sad and thoughtful, as he watched 
the evolutions of the two armies. 



But all at once, a smoke arose, a thunder 
shook the ground, and a chorus of shouts 
and groans yelled along the darkened air. 
The play of death had begun. The two 
flags, this of the stars, that of the red cross, 
tossed amid the smoke of battle, while the 
sky was clouded with leaden folds, and the 
earth throbbed with the pulsations of a 
mighty heart. Suddenly, Gates and his of- 
ficers were startled. Along the heigLf on 
which they stood, came a rider, upon a bl-icfc 
horse, rushing toward the distant battle. 

There was something in the appearance oi 
this horse and his rider, that struck them 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



19? 



with surprise. Look! he draws his sword, 
the sharp blade quivers through the air — he 
points to the distant battle, and lo ! he is 
gone ; gone through those clouds, while his 
shout echoes over the plains. Wherever the 
fight is the thickest, there through intervals 
of cannon smoke, you may see riding madly 
forward that strange soldier, mounted on his 
steed black as death. Look at him, as with 
face red with British blood he waves his 
sword and shouts to his legions. Now you 
may see him fighting in that cannon's glare, 
and the next moment he is away off yonder, 
leading the forlorn hope up that steep cliff. 

Is it not a magnificent sight, to see that 
strange soldier and that noble black horse 
dashing like a meteor, down the long col- 
umns of battle ? Let us look for a moment 
mto those dense war-clouds. Over this thick 
hedge bursts a band of American militia-men, 
their rude farmer coats stained with blood, 
while scattering their arms by the way, they 
flee before that company of redcoat hirelings, 
who come rushing forward, their solid front 
of bayonets gleaming in the battle light- 
In this moment of their flight, a horse 
comes crashing over the plains. The un- 
known rider reins his steed back on his 
haunches, right in the path of a broad- 
shouldered militia-man. " Now, cowards ! 
advance another step and I'll strike you to 
the heart ! " shouts the unknown, extending 
a pistol in either hand. " What ! are you 
Americans, men, and fly before British sol- 
diers? . Back again, and face them once 
more, or I myself will ride you down." 

This appeal was not without its effect. 
The militia-man turns; his comrades, as if 
by one impulse, follow his example. In one 
line, but thirty men in all, they confront 
thirty sharp bayonets. The British advance. 
" Now upon the rebels, charge ! " shouts the 
red-coat officer. They spring forward at the 
same bouad. Look' their bayonets almost 



touch the muzzles of their rifles. At this 
moment the voice of the unknown rider was 
heard : " Now let them have it ! Fire ! " A 
sound is heard, a smoke is seen, twenty 
Britons are down, some writhing in death 
some crawling along the soil, and some 
speechless as stone. The remaining ten start 
back. " Club your rifles and charge them 
home ! " shouts the unknown. 

That black horse springs forward, followed 
by the militia-men. Then a confused con- 
flict — a cry for quarter, and a vision of twenty 
farmers grouped around the rider of the 
black horse, greeting him with cheers. Thus 
it was all the day long. Wherever that black 
horse and his rider went, there followed 
victory. At last, toward the setting of the 
sun, the crisis of the conflict came. That 
fortress yonder, on Bemiss' Heights, must be 
won, or the American cause is lost 1 That 
cliff is too steep — that death is too certain. 
The officers cannot persuade the men to ad- 
vance. The Americans have lost the field. 
Even Morgan, that iron man among iroi? 
men, leans on his rifle and despairs of the 
field. 

But look yonder ! In this moment when 
all is dismay and horror, here crashing on 
comes the black horse and his rider. Tha* 
rider bends upon his steed, his frenzied facf 
covered with sweat and dust and blood ; h* 
lays his hand upon that brave rifleman* 
shoulder, and as though living fire had beer 
poured into his veins, he seized his rifle anc 
started toward the rock. And now look- 
now hold your breath, as that black steed 
crashes up that steep cliff. That steed quiv- 
ers I he totters ! he falls ! No ! No ! Stil.' 
on, still up the cliff, still on toward the fo* - 
tress. 

The rider turns his face and shouts, " Con.c 
on, men of Quebec ! come on ! " That call 
is needless. Already the bold riflemen are 
on the rock. Now British cannon poui 



198 



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your fires, and lay your dead in tens and 
twenties on the rock. Now, red-coat hire- 
lings, shout your battle-cry if you can ! For 
look ! there, in the gate of the fortress, as 
the smoke clears away, stands the Black 
Horse and his rider. That steed falls dead, 
pierced by an hundred balls ; but his rider, 
as the British cry for quarter, lifts up his 
voice and shouts afar to Horatio Gates wait- 
ing yonder in his tent, " Saratoga is won ! " 



As that cry goes up to heaven, he falls 
with his leg shattered by a cannon balL 
Who was the rider of the black horse ? Do 
you not guess his name ? Then bend down 
and gaze on that shattered limb, and you will 
see that it bears the marks of a former wound. 
That wound was received in the storming of 
Quebec. That rider of the Black Horse 
was Benedict Arnold. 

Charles Sheppard. 



THE UNFINISHED LETTER. 



" Near Deadwood. 



"Dear Jenny — 




E reached here this morning, 

Tom Baker, Ned Leonard and I, 
So you see that, in spite of your 
warning, 
The end of our journey is nigh. 

•"The redskins — 'tis scarce worth a mention, 

Don't worry about me, I pray — 
Have shown us no little attention — 

Confound them ? — along on our way. 

'Poor Ned's got a ball in the shoulder — 
Another one just grazed my side — 

8ut pshaw ! ere we're half a day older 
We'll be at the end of our ride. 

'♦We've camped here for breakfast. Tom's 
splitting 
Some kindling wood, off of the pines, 



And astride a dead cedar I'm sitting 
To hastily pen you these lines. 

" A courier from Deadwood — we met him 
Just now with a mail for the States, 

(Ah, Jenny ! I'll never forget him)— 
For this most obligingly waits. 

" He says, too, the miners are earning 
Ten dollars a day, every man. 

Halloa ! here comes Tom — he's returning, 
And running as fast as he can. 

" It's nothing, I guess ; he is only 
At one of his practical — ' ' Bang 1 

And sharp through that solitude lonely 
The crack of Sioux rifle shots rang. 

And as the dire volley came blended 
With echo from canyon and pass-. 

The letter to Jenny was ended — 
Its writer lay dead on the grass. 



LEGEND OF THE ORGAN- BUILDER. 



B 



AY by day the Organ-builder in his 
lonely chamber wrought ; 
Day by day the soft air trembled to 
the music of his thought ; 



Ay, so rarely was it builded that whenever groorc 

and bride, 
Who, in God's sight were well-pleasing, in the 

church stood side by side, 

Without touch or breath the orgju of itself began 
to play, 



Till at last the work was ended ; and no organ- 
voice so grand 

Ever yet had soared responsive to the master's j And the very airs of heaven through the soft 
magic hand. ' gloom seemed to stray. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



19S* 



He was young, the Organ-builder, and o'er all 

the land his fame 
Ran with fleet and eager footsteps, like a swiftly 

rushing flame. 

All the maidens heard the story ; all the maidens 

blushed and smiled, 
By his youth and wondrous beauty and his great 

renown beguiled. 

So he sought and won the fairest, and the wed- 
ding-day was set : 

Happy day — the brightest jewel in the glad year's 
coronet 1 

But when they the portal entered, he forgot his 

lovely bride — 
Forgot his love, forgot his God, and his heart 

swelled high with pride. 

" Ah ! " thought he ; " how great a master am I ! 

When the organ plays, 
How the vast cathedral-arches will re-echo with 

my praise 1 " 

Up the aisle the gay procession moved. The 

altar shone afar, 
With every candle gleaming through soft shadows 

like a star. 

But he listened, listened, listened, with no thought 

of love or prayer, 
For the swelling notes of triumph from his organ 

standing there. 

All was silent. Nothing heard he save the priest's 

low monotone, 
And the bride's robe trailing softly o'er the floor 

of fretted stone. 

Then his lips grew white with anger. Surely God 
was pleased with him 

Who had built the wondrous organ for His tem- 
ple vast and dim ! 

Whose the fault, then ? Hers — the maiden stand- 
ing meekly at his side ! 

Flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was 
false to him — bis bride. 



Vain were all her protestations, vain her inno- 
cence and truth ; 

On that very night he left her to her anguish 
and her ruth. 

For he wandered to a country wherein no man 

knew his name ; 
For ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still 

his wrath and shame. 

Then his haughty heart grew softer, and he 

thought by night and day 
Of the bride he had deserted, till he hardly 

dared to pray ; 

Thought of her, a spotless maiden, fair and beau- 

tiful and good ; 
Thought of his relentless anger, that had cursed 

her womanhood ; 

Till his yearning grief and penitence at last wef 

all complete, 
And he longed, with bitter longing, just to fall 

down at her feet. 

Ah ! how throbbed his heart when, after many a 
weary day and night, 

Rose his native towers before him, with the sun- 
set glow alight ! 

Through the gates into the city on he pressea 
with eager tread ; 

There he met a long procession — mourners fol- 
lowing the dead. 

" Now why weep ye so, good people ? and whom 

bury ye to-day ?■ 
Why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers 

along the way ? 

" Has some saint gone up to heaven ? " " Yes,' 

they answered, weeping sore ; 
" For the Organ-builder's saintly wife our eyes 

shall see no more ; 

"And because her days were given to the ser- 
vice of God's poor, 

From His church we mean to bury her. See I 
vender is the door." 



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DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



No one knew him ; no one wondered when he 

cried out, white with pain ; 
Jo one questioned when, with pallid lips, he 
poured his tears like rain. 

" 'Tis some one whom she has comforted, who 

mourns with us," they said, 
As he made his way unchallenged, and bore the 

coffin's head ; 

Bore it through the open portal, bore it up the 

echoing aisle, 
Let it down before the altar, where the lights 

burned clear the while ', 

iVhen, oh, hark \ the wondrous organ of itself 

began to play 
Strains of rare, unearthly sweetness never heard 

until that day ! 



All the vaulted arches rang with the music sw«e» 
and clear 1 

All the air was filled with glory, as of angels ho- 
vering near ; 

And ere yet the strain was ended, he who bore 
the coffin's head, 

With the smile of one forgiven, gently sank be- 
side it — dead. 

They who raised the body knew him, and they 

laid him by his bride ; 
Down the aisle and o'er the threshold they were 

carried, side by side ; 

While the organ played a dirge that no man ever 

heard before, 
And iien softly sank to silence — silence kept fo* 

evermore. Julia C. R. Dorr. 



-"#^.o*o...^U 



CAUGHT IN 



IT sometimes happens that a man, traveler 
or fisherman, walking on the beach at 
low tide, far from the bank, suddenly 
notices that for several minutes he has been 
walking with some difficulty. The strand 
beneath his feet is like pitch ; his soles stick 
in it; it is sand no longer; it is glue. 

The beach is perfectly dry, but at every 
step he takes, as soon as he lift his foot, the 
print which it leaves fills with water. The 
eye, however, has noticed no change ; the 
immense strand is smooth and tranquil, all 
i\e sand has the same appearance; nothing 
distinguishes the surface which is solid from 
hat which is no longer so ; the joyous little 
crowd of sandflies continue to leap tumult- 
uously over the wayfarer's feet. The man 
pursues his way, goes forward, inclines to the 
land, endeavors to get nearer the upland. 

He is not anxious. Anxious about what? 
Only he feels, somehow, as if the weight of 
his feet increases with every step he takes. 
Suddenly h@ sinks in. 



THE QUICKSAND. 

He sinks in two or three inches. Decid- 
edly he is not on the right road; he stops to 
take his bearings ; now he looks at his feet 
They have disappeared. The sand covers 
them. He draws them out of the sand ; he 
will retrace his steps. He turns back, he 
sinks in deeper. The sand comes up to his 
ankles; he pulls himself out and throws him- 
self to the left ; the sand half leg deep. He 
throws himself to the right ; the sand comes 
up to his shins. 

Then he recognizes with unspeakable ter- 
ror that he is caught in the quicksand, and 
that he has beneath him the terrible medium 
in which man can no more walk than the fish 
can swim. He throws off his load, if he has 
one, lightens himself as a ship in distress; it 
is already too late; the sand is above his 
knees. He calls, he waves his hat or his 
handkerchief; the sand gains on him more 
and more. If the beach is deserted, if the 
land is too far off, if there is no help in sight, 
it ie all ever. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



201 



He is condemned to that appalling burial, 
long, infallible, implacable and impossible to 
slacken or to hasten, which endures for hours, 
which seizes you erect, free and in full health, 
and which draws you by the feet ; which, at 
every effort that you attempt, at every shout 
you utter, drags you a little deeper, sinking 
you slowly into the earth while you look 
upon the horizon, the sails of the ships upon 
the sea, the birds flying and singing, the sun- 
shine and the sky. The victim attempts to 
sit down, to lie down, to creep ; every move- 
ment he makes inters him ; he straightens 
up, he sinks in ; he feels that he is being 
swallowed. He howls, implores, cries to the 
clouds, despairs. 

Behold him waist deep in the sand. The 



sand reaches his breast; he is now only a 
bust. He raises his arms, utters furiou? 
groans, clutches the beach with his nails< 
would hold by that straw, leans upon his 
elbows, to pull himself out of this soft sheath ; 
sobs frenziedly ; the sand rises ; the sand 
reaches his shoulders ; the sand reaches his 
neck; the face alone is visible now. 

The mouth cries, the sand fills it — silence. 
The eyes still gaze — the sand shuts them ; 
night. Now the forehead decreases, a little 
hair flutters above the sand; a hand come to 
the surface of the beach, moves, and shakes, 
disappears. It is the earth-drowning man. 
The earth filled with the ocean becomes a 
trap. It presents itself like a plain, and opens 
like a wave. Victor Hugo. 



-#?"°*>"^ 



THE LITTLE QUAKER SINNER. 

(^>y LI1TLE Quaker maiden, with dimpled 
[1\ cheek and chin, 

/jlV Before an ancient mirror stood, and 



viewed her from within 
She wore a gown of sober gray, a cap demure 

and prim, 
With only simple fold and hem, yet dainty, neat 

and trim. 
Her bonnet, too, was gray and stiff; its only line 

of grace 
Was in the lace, so soft and white, shirred round 

her rosy face. 

Quoth she: " Oh, how I hate this hat ! I hate 
this gown and cape ! 

I do wish all my clothes were not of such out- 
landish shape I 

The children passing by to school have ribbons 
on their hair; 

The little girl next door wears blue ; oh, dear, if 
I could dare,, 

I know what I should like to do !" — (The words 
were whispered low, 

Lest such tremendous heresy should reach her 
aunts below.) 



Calmly reading in the parlor sat the good aunts 
Faith and Peace, 

Little dreaming how rebellious throbbed the 
heart of their young niece. 

All their prudent, humble teaching willfully she 
cast aside, 

And, her mind now fully conquered by vanity 
and pride, 

She, with trembling heart and fingers, on a has- 
sock sat her down, 

And this little Quaker sinner sewed a tuck into 
her gown ! 

"Little Patience, art thou ready? Fifth day 

meeting time has come, 
Mercy Jones and Goodman Elder with his wife 

have left their home. ' ' 
'Tvvas Aunt Faith's sweet voice that called he.. 

and the naughty little maid — 
Gliding down the dark old stairway — hoped their 

notice to evade, 
Keeping shyly in their shadow as they went out 

at the door, 
Ah ! never little Quakeress a guiltier conscience 

bore ! 



202 



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Dear Aunt Faith walked looking upward; all her 

thoughts were pure and holy . 
And Aunt Peace walked gazing downward, with 

a humble mind and lowly. 
But "tuck — tuck!" chirped the sparrows, at 

the little maiden's side; 
And, in passing Farmer Watson's, where the 

barn-door opened wide, 
Every sound that issued from it, every grunt and 

every cluck, 
Was to her affrighted fancy like " a tuck ! " "a 

tuck!" "a tuck!" 

In meeting, Goodman Elder spoke of pride and 

vanity, 
While all the Friends seemed looking round that 

dreadful tuck to see. 
How it swelled in its proportions, till it seemed 

to fill the air, 



And the heart of little Patience grew heavier 

with her care. 
O, the glad relief to her, when, prayers and ex 

hortations ended, 
Behind her two good aunties her homeward way 

she wended ! 

The pomps and vanities of life she'd seized with 
eager arms, 

And deeply she had tasted of the world's allur- 
ing charms — 

Yea, to the dregs had drained them, and only 
this to find : 

All was vanity of spirit and vexation of the mind. 

So, repentant, saddened, humbled on her hassock 
she sat down, 

And this little Quaker sinner ripped the tuck out 
of her gown ! 

Lucy L. Montgomery. 



THE TELL-TALE HEART. 

The emotions of horror and dismay are vividly brought out in this selection, which is character- 
istic of some of the writings of Edgar A. Poe. He had a morbid fancy for the weird, the gruesome 
and startling, all of which arpear in this ghastly description from his pen. The piece is an excellent 
one of its kind. It requires tie ability of a tragedian to properly deliver it. 




ITH a loud yell I threw open the 
lantern and leaped into the room. 
He shrieked once — once only. In 
an instant I dragged him to the floor, and 
pulled the heavy bed over him. I then 
smiled gayly to find the deed so far done. 
But for many minutes the heart beat on with 
a muffled sound. This, however, did not 
vex me; it would not be heard through the 
wall. At length it ceased. The old man 
was dead. I removed the bed and examined 
the corpse. I placed my hand upon the 
heart and held it there many minutes. There 
was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His 
eye would trouble me no more. 

If you still think me mad, you will think 
so no longer when I describe the wise pre- 
cautions I took for the concealment of the 
body. The night waned, and I worked has- 



tily, but in silence. First of all I dismem- 
bered the corpse. 

I then took up three planks from the 
flooring of the chamber and deposited all 
between the scantlings. I then replaced the 
boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no 
human eye — not even his — could have de- 
tected anything wrong. 

When I had made an end of these labors 
it was four o'clock — still dark as midnight. 
As the bell sounded the hour, there came a 
knocking at the street door. I went down 
to open it with a light heart — for what had 
I now to fear? Then entered three men 
who introduced themselves, with perfect 
suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek 
had been heard by a neighbor during the 
night ; suspicion of foul play had been 
aroused ; information had been lodged at the 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



20. 



police office, and they (the officers) had been 
deputed to search the premises. 

I smiled — for what had I to fear ? I bade 
the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, 
was my own in a dream. The old man, I 
mentioned, was absent in the country. I 
took my visitors all over the house. I bade 
them search — search well. I led them at 
length to his chamber. I showed them his 
treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the en- 
thusiasm of my confidence I brought chairs 
into the room, and desired them here to rest 
from their fatigues, while I myself, in the 
wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed 
my own seat upon the very spot beneath 
which reposed the corpse of the victim. 

The officers were satisfied. My manner 
had convinced them. I was singularly at 
ease. But ere long I felt myself getting pale 
and wished them gone. My head ached, 
and I fancied a ringing in my ears ; but still 
they sat and still chatted. The ringing be- 
came more distinct ; it continued and gained 
definitiveness — until at length I found that 
the noise was not within my ears. 

No doubt I now grew very pale ; but I 
talked more fluently and with a heightened 
voice. Yet the sound increased — and what 
could I do. It was a low, dull, quick sound 
— much such a sound as a watch makes 



when enveloped in cotton. I gasped fo» 
breath — and yet the officers heard it not. I 
talked more quickly — more vehemently ; but 
the noise steadily increased. I arose and 
argued about trifles, in a high key and with 
violent gesticulations ; but the noise steadily 
increased. Why would they not be gone ? I 
paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, 
as if excited to fury by the observations of the 
men— but the noise steadily increased. O 
God ! what could I do ? I foamed — I raved— 
I swore ! I swung the chair upon which I had 
been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, 
but the noise arose over all and continually 
increased. It grew louder — louder — louder. 
And still the men chatted pleasantly and 
smiled. Was it possible they heard not ? 

They heard ! — they suspected ! — they knew! 
— they were making a mockery of my hor- 
ror ! this I thought, and this I think. But 
anything was better than this agony ! Any- 
thing was more tolerable than this derision ! 
I can bear those hypocritical smiles no 
longer ! I felt that I must scream or die ! — ■ 
and now — again! — hark! louder! louder 5 
louder ! louder ! 

" Villains ! " I shrieked, " dissemble no 
more ! I admit the deed — tear up the planks ! 
here ! here ! it is the beating of his hideous 
heart ! " Edgar Allan Poe. 



THE LITTLE MATCH-GIRL. 



A CHRISTMAS STORY. 



fT was terribly cold ; it snowed and was 
already almost dark and evening com- 
ing on — the last evening of the year. 
In the cold and gloom a little girl, bareheaded 
and barefooted, was walking through the 
streets. When she left her own house she 
certainly had slippers on, slippers, but of 
what use were they ? They were very big 
slippers, and her mother had used them until 



then. So big were they the little maid lost 
them as she slipped across the road, where 
two carriages were rattling by terribly fast. 
One slipper was not to be found again, and 
a boy had seized the other and ran awaj 
with it. So now the little girl went with 
naked feet, which were quite red and blue 
with the cold. In an old apron she carried 
a number of matches and a bundle of them 



$04 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



»n her hana No one had bought anything 
01 her all day, and no one had given her a 
Girthing. 

Shivering with cold and hunger she crept 
along, a picture of misery, poor little girl ! 
7he snowflakes covered her long, fair hair, 
which fell in pretty curls over her neck, but 
he did not think of that now. In all the 
windows lights were shining and there was a 
glorious smell of roast goose, for it was 
Christmas Eve. Yes, she thought of that ! 

In a corner formed by two houses, one of 
ivhich projected beyond the other, she sat 
down, cowering. She had drawn up her 
little feet, but she was still colder, and she 
did not dare go home, for she had sold no 
matches, and did not therefore have a farth- 
ing of money. From her father she would 
certainly receive a beating, and, besides, it 
was cold at home, for they had nothing over 
them but a roof, through which the wind 
whistled, though the largest rents had been 
stopped with straw and rags. 

Her hands were almost benumbed with 
the cold. Ah ! a match might do her good 
if she could only draw one from the bundle 
and rub it against the wall and warm her 
hands at it. She draws one out. R-r-atch ! 
How it sputtered and burned! It was a 
warm, bright flame, like a candle, when she 
held her hands over it ; it was a wonderful 
little light ! It really seemed to the child as 
if she sat before a great polished stove with 
bright brass feet and a brass cover. How 
the fire burned ! How comfortable it was ! 
but the little flame went out, the stove van- 
ished, and she had only the remains of the 
burnt match in her hand. 

A second one was rubbed against the wall. 
It burned up, and when the light fell upon 
the wall it became transparent, like a thin 
veil, and she could see through it into the 
room. On the table a snow-white cloth was 
spread ; upon it stood a shining dinner ser- 



vice; the roast goose smoked gloriously, 
stuffed with apples and dried plums. And 
what was still more splendid to behold, the 
goose hopped down from the dish and wad- 
dled along the floor, with a knife and fork ia 
its breast, to the little girl. 

Then the match went out, and only the 
thick, damp, cold wall was before her. She 
lighted another match. Then she was sitting 
under a beautiful Christmas tree; it was 
greater and more ornamented than the one 
she had seen through the glass door at the rich 
merchant's. Thousands of candles burned 
upon its green branches and lighted up the 
pictures in the room. The girl stretched 
forth her hand toward them ; then the match 
went out. The Christmas lights mounted 
higher. She saw them now as stars in the 
sky ; one of them fell down, forming a long 
line of fire. 

" Now some one is dying," thought the 
little girl, for her old grandmother, the only 
person who had loved her and who was now 
dead, had told her that when a star fell down 
a soul mounted up to God. 

She rubbed another match against the 
wall ; it became bright again, and in the 
brightness the old grandmother stood clear 
and shining, mild and lovely. 

" Grandmother ! " cried the child, " oh ' 
take me with you ! I know you will go 
when the match is burned out. You will 
vanish like the warm fire, the warm food, 
and the great, glorious Christmas tree ! " 

And she hastily rubbed the whole bundle 
of matches, for she wished to hold her grand- 
mother fast. And the matches burned with 
such a glow that it became brighter than iii 
the middle of the day ; grandmother had 
never been so large or so beautiful. She 
took the child in her arms and both flew in 
brightness and joy above the earth, very, 
very high ; and up there was neither cold 
nor hunger nor care — they were with God. 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



But in the corner, leaning against the wall, 
sat the poor girl with red cheeks and smiling 
mouth, frozen to death. " She wanted to 
warm herself," the people said. No 



one 



imagined what a beautiful thing she had 
seen and in what glory she had gone h, 
with her grandmother on that Christmas 
night. Hans Christian Andersen. 



THE MONK'S VISION. 



fREAD a legend of a monk who painted, 
In an old convent cell in days bygone, 
Pictures of martyrs and of virgins sainted, 
And the sweet Christ-face with the crown of 
thorn. 

Poor daubs not fit to be a chapel's treasure — 
Full many a taunting word upon them fell ; 

But the good abbot let him, for his pleasure, 
Adorn with them his solitary cell. 

One night the poor monk mused: " Could I but 
render 

Honor to Christ as other painters do — 
Were but my skill as great as is the tender 

Love that inspires me wnen His cross I view ! 

"But no ; 'tis vain I toil and strive in sorrow; 
What man so scorns, still less can He admire; 



My life's work is all valueless ; to-morrow 
I'll cast my ill- wrought pictures in the fire." 

He raised his eyes within his cell — O wonder 1 
There stood a visitor ; thorn-crowned was He, 

And a sweet voice the silence rent asunder : 
"I scorn no work that's done for love of me." 

And round the walls the paintings shone re- 
splendent 

With lights and colors to this world unknown, 
A perfect beauty, and a hue transcendent, 

That never yet on mortal canvas shone. 

There is a meaning in this strange old story; 

Let none dare judge his brother's worth 01 
need; 
The pure intent gives to the act its glory, 

The noblest purpose makes the grandest deed 



THE BOAT RACE. 



\5 I HE Algonquins rowed up and down a 
^ I few times before the spectators. They 
appeared in perfect training, mettle- 
some as colts, steady as draught horses, deep 
breathed as oxen, disciplined to work to- 
gether as symmetrically as a single sculler 
pulls his pair of oars. 

Five minutes passed, and all eyes were 
strained to the south, looking for the Ata- 
lanta. A dumb of trees hid the edge of the 
lake along which the Corinna's boat was 
stealing toward the starting point. Presently 
the long shell swept into view, with its 
blooming rowers. How steadily the Ata- 
lanta came on ! No rocking, no splashing, 
no apparent strain ; the bow oar turning to 



look ahead every now and then, and watch' 
ing her course, which seemed to be straiglr 
as an arrow, the beat of the strokes as true 
and regular as the pulse of the healthiest 
rower among them all. 

If the sight of the other boat and its crew 
of young men was beautiful, how lovely was 
the look of this : eight young girls — all ir 
the flush of youth, all in vigorous health 
every muscle taught its duty; each rowe^ 
alert not to be a tenth of a second out of 
time, or let her oar dally with the water so 
as to lose an ounce of its propelling virtue; 
every eye kindling with the hope of victory. 
Each of the boats was cheered as it came in 
sight, but the cheers for the Atalanta were 



206 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



-ituraHy the loudest, as the gallantry of one 
sex and the clear, high voices of the other 
gave it life and vigor. 

"Take your places! " shouted the umpire, 
five minutes before the half-hour. The two 
boats felt their way slowly and cautiously to 
their positions. After a little backing and 
filling they got into line, and sat motionless, 
the bodies of the rowers bent forward, their 
arms outstretched, their oars in the water, 
waiting for the word. " Go ! " shouted the 
umpire. Away sprang the Atalanta, and far 
behind her leaped the Algonquin, her oars 
bending like long Indian bows as their blades 
flashed through the water. 

" A stern chase is a long chase," especially 
when one craft is a great distance behind the 
other. It looked as if it would be impossible 
for the rear boat to overcome the odds against 
it. Of course, the Algonquin kept gaining, 
but could it possibly gain enough ? As the 
boats got farther and farther away, it became 
difficult to determine what ch?nge there was 
n the interval between them. 

But when they came to rounding the stake 
it was easier to guess at the amount of space 
which had been gained. Something like half 
the distance — four lengths as nearly as could 
be estimated — had been made up in rowing 
the first three-quarters of a mile. Could the 
Algonquins do a little better than this in the 
second half of the race-course they would be 
;ure of winning. 

The boats had turned the stake and were 
joming in rapidly. Every minute the Uni- 
versity boat was getting nearer the other. 

" Go it, 'Quins! " shouted the students. 

" Pull away, 'Lantas ! " screamed the girls, 
;/ho were crowding down to the edge of the 
water. 

Nearer, nc'/er — the rear boat is pressing 
the other more and more closely — a few 
more strokes and they will be even. It looks 
desperate for the Atalantas. The bow oar of 



the Algonquin turns his head. He sees the 
little coxswain leaning forward at every 
stroke, as if her trivial weight were of such 
mighty consequence — but a few ounces might 
turn the scale of victory. As he turned he 
got a glimpse of the stroke oar of the Ata- 
lanta; what a flash of loveliness it was! 
Her face was like the reddest of June roses, 
with the heat and the strain and passion of 
expected triumph. 

The upper button of her close-fitting flan- 
nel suit had strangled her as her bosom 
heaved with exertion, and it had given way 
before the fierce clutch she made at it. The 
bow oar was a staunch and steady rower, 
but he was human. The blade of his oar 
lingered in the water ; a little more and he 
would have caught a crab, and perhaps lost 
the race by his momentary bewilderment. 

The boat, which seemed as if it had all the 
life and nervousness of a three-year-old colt, 
felt the slight check, and all her men bent 
more vigorously to their oars. The Atalanta 
saw the movement, and made a spurt to keep 
their lead and gain upon it if they could. It 
was no use. The strong arms of the young 
men were too much for the young maidens ; 
only a few lengths remained to be rowed, and 
they would certainly pass the Atalanta be- 
fore she could reach the line. 

The little coxswain saw that it was all up 
with the girls' crew if she could not save 
them by some strategic device. As she 
stooped she lifted the handkerchief at her 
feet and took from it a flaming bouquet 
" Look ! " she cried, and flung it just forward 
of the track of the Algonquin. 

The captain of the University boat turned 
his head, and there was the lovely vision 
which had, a moment before, bewitched him. 
The owner of all that loveliness must, he 
thought, have flung the bouquet. It was a 
challenge ; how could he be such a coward 
as to decline accepting it ? He was sure he 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



207 



could win the race now, and he would sweep 
past the line in triumph with the great bunch 
of flowers at the stern of his boat, proud as 
Van Tromp in the British Channel with the 
broom at his masthead. 

He turned the boat's head a little by back- 
ing water, and came up with the floating 
flowers, near enough to reach them. He 
stooped and snatched them up, with the loss 
perhaps of a second, no more. He felt sure 
of his victory. 

The bow of the Algonquin passes the 
stern of the Atalanta ! The bow of the Al- 
gonquin is on a level with the middle of the 
Atalanta — three more lengths and the college 
crew will pass the girls ! 

" Hurrah for the 'Quins ! " The Algon- 
quin ranges up alongside of the Atalanta! 

" Through with her 1 " shouts the captain 
of the Algonquin. 



" Now, girls ! " shrieks the captain of the 
Atalanta. 

They near the line, every rower straining 
desperately, almost madly. Crack goes the 
oar of the Atalanta's captain, and up flash its 
splintered fragments as the stem of her boat 
springs past the line, eighteen inches at least 
ahead of the Algonquin. 

" Hooraw for the 'Lantas ! Hooraw for 
the girls ! Hooraw for the Institoot ! " shout 
a hundred voices. 

And there is loud laughing and cheering 
all round. 

The pretty little captain had not studied 
her classical dictionary for nothing. " I 
have paid off an old 'score,' " she said. "Set 
down my damask roses against the golden 
apples of Hippomenes ! " It was that one 
second lost in snatching up the bouquet 
which gave the race to the Atalantas ! 



•@v><?©« 



PHILLIPS OF PELHAMVILLE. 




>HORT is the story I say, if you will 
Hear it, of Phillips of Pelhamville : 

An engineer for many a day 

Over miles and miles of the double way. 

He was out that day, running sharp, for he knew 
He must shunt ahead for a train overdue, 

The South Express coming on behind 
With the swing and rush of a mighty wind. 

No need to say in this verse of mine 
How accidents happen along the line. 

A rail lying wide to the gauge ahead, 
A signal clear when it should be red ; 

An axle breaking, the tire of a wheel 
Snapping off at a hidden flaw in the steel. 

Enough. There were wagons piled up in the air, 
As if some giant had tossed them there. 

Rails broken and bent like a willow wand, 
And sleepers torn up through the ballast and sand. 



The hiss of the steam was heard, as it rushed 
Through the safety-valves ; the engine crushed 

Deep into the slope, like a monster driven 
To hide itself from the eye of heaven. 

But where was Phillips ? From underneath 
The tender wheels, with their grip of death, 

They drew him, scalded by steam, and burned 
By the engine fires as it overturned. 

They laid him gently upon the slope, 
Then knelt beside him with little of hope. 

Though dying, he was the only one 

Of them all that knew what ought to be done ; 

For his fading eye grew quick with a fear, 
As if of some danger approaching near. 

And it sought — not the wreck of his train that lay 
Over the six and the four feet away — 

But down the track, for there hung on his mind 
The South Express coming up behind. 



208 



DESCRIPTIVE AND DRAMATIC RECITATIONS. 



And he half arose with a stifled groan, 
While his voice had the same old ring in its tone : 
'Signal the South Express!" he said, 
Then fell back in the arms of his fireman, dead. 
Short, as you see, is this story of mine, 
And of one more hero of the line. 



For hero he was, though before his name 
Goes forth no trumpet-blast of fame. 

Yet true to his duty, as steel to steel, 
Was Phillips the driver of Pelhamville. 

Alexander Anderson. 



POOR LITTLE JIM. 



15 I HE cottage was a thatched one, the outside 
* I old and mean, 

But all within that little cot was wondrous 
neat and clean ; 
The night was dark and stormy, the wind was 

howling wild, 
As a patient mother sat beside the death-bed of 

her child : 
A little worn-out creature, his once bright eyes 

grown dim: 
It was a collier's wife and child, they called him 
little Jim. 

And oh ! to see the briny tears fast hurrying down 

her cheek, 
As she offered up the prayer, in thought, she was 

afraid to speak, 
Lest she might waken one she loved far better 

than her life ; 
For she had all a mother's heart, had that poor 

collier's wife. 
With hands uplifted, see, she kneels beside the 

sufferer's bed, 
And prays that He would spare her boy, and take 

herself instead. 

She gets her answer from the child : soft fall the 
words from him : 

" Mother, the angels do so smile, and beckon lit- 
tle Jim, 

1 have no pain, dear mother, now, but oh ! I am 
so dry, 



Just moisten poor Jim's lips again, and, mother. 

don't you cry." 
With gentle, trembling haste she held the liquid 

to his lip j 
He smiled to thank her as he took each little, 

tiny sip; 

" Tell father, when he comes from work, I said 

good-night to him, 
And, mother, now I'll go to sleep." Alas! poor 

little Jim ! 
She knew that he was dying ; that the child she 

loved so dear 
Had uttered the last words she might ever hope 

to hear : 
The cottage door is opened, the collier's step is 

heard, 
The father and the mother meet, yet neither 

speak a word. 

He felt that all was over, he knew his child was 
dead, 

He took the candle in his hand and walked to- 
ward the bed ; 

His quivering lips gave token of the grief he'd 
fain conceal, 

And see, his wife has joined him — the stricken 
couple kneel : 

With hearts bowed down by sadness, they humbly 
ask of Him, 

In heaven once more to meet again their own 
poor little Jim. 



Orations by Famous Orators. 



Ar. oration, strictly speaking, is an elabo- 
rate discourse delivered on some special 
occasion, and in a somewhat formal and dig- 
nified manner. As this class of recitations 
stands by itself and is quite different from 
the other selections contained in this volume, 



I have grouped together here a number of 
Famous Orations, all of which have given 
their authors celebrity. These are well 
suited for public delivery by those who pre- 
fer this kind of recitation and have the oratori- 
cal ability required for reciting them. 



TRUE MORAL COURAGE. 

BY HENRY CLAY. 

When reference is made to America's greatest orators it is customary to mention the name of Henry 
Clay among the very first. He was frequently called " The Mill Boy of the Slashes," from the fact that he 
was a poor boy and was born in a district in Virginia called " the Slashes." Mr. Clay was tall and slender 
and had a voice of wonderful range and sympathy, was remarkably easy and graceful in manner, and few 
orators who ever lived possessed such persuasive power. 

The opening part of this fine selection should be delivered in a rather quiet, slightly satirical tone; but 
m the later passages the speaker should grow warm and enthusiastic, and voice and gesture should express 
a full appreciation of the lofty sentiments he is uttering. 



(3The 



HERE is a sort of courage, which, I 
4 I frankly confess it, I do not possess — 
a boldness to which I dare not aspire, 
a valor which I cannot covet. I cannot lay 
myself down in the way of the welfare and 
happiness of my country. That, I cannot — 
I have not the courage to do. I cannot in- 
terpose the power with which I may be in- 
vested—a power conferred, not for my per- 
sonal benefit, nor for my aggrandizement, 
but for my country's good — to check her 
onward march to greatness and glory. I 
have not courage enough. I am too cowardly 
Cor that. 

I would not, I dare not, in the exercise of 
such a threat, lie down, and place my body 
across the path that leads my country to 
prosperity and happiness. This is a sort of 
courage widely different from that which a 
man may display in his private conduct and 
personal relations. Personal or private cour- 
04-X) 



age is totally distinct from that higher and 
nobler courage which prompts the patriot to 
offer himseli" a voluntary sacrifice to his 
country's good. 

Apprehensions of the imputation of the 
want of firmness sometimes impel us to per- 
form rash and inconsiderate acts. It is the 
greatest courage to be able to bear the im • 
putation of the want of courage. 

But pride, vanity, egotism, so unamiable 
and offensive in private life, are vices which 
partake of the character of crimes in the 
conduct of public affairs. The unfortunate 
victim of these passions cannot see beyond 
the little, petty, contemptible circle of his 
own personal interests. All his thoughts are 
withdrawn from his country, and concen- 
trated on his consistency, his firmness, hin> 
self. 

The high, the exalted, the sublime emo- 
tions of a patriotism which, soaring toward 

209 



210 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



heaven, rises far above all mean, low, or 
selfish things, and is absorbed by one soul- 
transporting thought of the good and the 
*lory of one's country, are never felt in his 
impenetrable bosom. That patriotism which, 
catching its inspiration of the immortal God, 



and, leaving at an immeasurable distance be- 
low all lesser, groveling, personal interests 
and feelings, animates and prompts to deeds 
of self-sacrifice, of valor, of devotion, and of 
death itself — that is public virtue ; that is the 
noblest, the sublimest of all public virtues ! 



THE STRUGGLE FOR LIBERTY. 

BY JOSIAH QUINCY. 

An American orator and patriot, born in Massachusetts in 1744, Mr. Quincy, by his fervid and con- 
vincing eloquence, was one of the most powerful champions of the popular cause of independence. 




E not deceived, my countrymen. 
Believe not these venal hirelings, 
when they would cajole you by 
their subtleties into submission, or 
frighten you by their vaporings into com- 
pliance. When they strive to flatter you by 
the terms " moderation and prudence," tell 
them that calmness and deliberation are to 
guide the judgment; courage and intrepidity 
command the action. When they endeavor 
to make us " perceive our inability to oppose 
our mother country," let us boldly answer — 
In defence of our civil and religious rights, 
we dare oppose the world ; with the God of 
armies on our side, even the God who fought 
our fathers' battles, we fear not the hour of 
trial, though the hosts of our enemies should 
cover the field like locusts. If this be enthu- 
siasm, we will live and die enthusiasts. 

Blandishments will not fascinate us, nor 
will threats of a "halter" intimidate. For, 
under God, we are determined, that whereso- 
ever, whensoever, or howsoever we shall be 
called to make our exit, we will die freemen. 
Well do we know that all the regalia of this 
world can not dignify the death of a villain, 
nor diminish the ignominy with which a 
slave shall quit existence. 

Neither can it taint the unblemished honor 
of a son of freedom though he should make 
his departure on the already prepared gibbet, 



or be dragged to the newly-erected scaffold 
for execution. With the plaudits ot his coun- 
try, and what is more, the plaudits of his con- 
science, he will go off the stage. The history 
of his life, his children shall venerate. The vir- 
tues of their sires shall excite their emulation. 

Is the debt we owe posterity paid ? An- 
swer me, thou coward, who hidest thyself in 
the hour of trial ! If there is no reward in 
this life, no prize of glory in the next, capa- 
ble of animating thy dastard soul, think and 
tremble, thou miscreant! at the whips and 
stripes thy master shall lash thee with on earth 
— and the flames and scorpions thy second 
master shall torment thee with hereafter ! 

Oh my countrymen ! what will our chil- 
dren say, when they read the history of these 
times, should they find that we tamely gave 
way, without one noble struggle for the most 
invaluable of earthly blessings ! As they 
drag the galling chain, will they not execrate 
us? If we have any respect for things 
sacred, any regard to the dearest treasure on 
earth ; if we have one tender sentiment for 
posterity ; if we would not be despised by 
the world ; let us, in the most open, solemn 
manner, and with determined fortitude, swear 
— we will die if we cannot live freemen. While 
we have equity, justice, and God on our side, 
tyranny, spiritual or temporal, shall never ride 
triumphant in a land inhabited by Englishmen, 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



211 



CENTENNIAL ORATION. 

BY HENRY ARMITT BROWN. 

From the oration delivered upon the occasion of the Centennial Anniversary of the meeting of the first 
Colonial Congress in Carpenters ' Hall, Philadelphia. This oration is the masterpiece of a young orator 
who died when but little past the age of thirty, having already gained a wide celebrity for scholarly attain- 
ments and commanding eloquence. It is remarkable for boldness of thought and fervor of expression. 



You have a 
hearts of men, 
common good. 



(5 I HE conditions of life are always chang- 
* I ing, and the experience of the fathers 
is rarely the experience of the sons. 
The temptations which are trying us are not 
the temptations which beset their footsteps, 
nor the dangers which threaten our pathway 
the dangers which surrounded them. These 
men were few in number; we are many. 
They were poor, but we are rich. They were 
weak, but we are strong. What is it, coun- 
trymen, that we need to-day? Wealth? Be- 
hold it in your hands. Power ? God hath 
given it you. Liberty? It is your birth- 
right. Peace ? It dwells amongst you. 

Government founded in the 
built by the people for the 
You have a land flowing 
with milk and honey; your homes are happy, 
your workshops busy, your barns are full. 
The school, the railway, the telegraph, the 
printing press, have welded you together into 
one. Descend those mines that honeycomb 
the hills ! Behold that commerce whitening 
every sea ! Stand by your gates and see that 
multitude pour through them from the cor- 
ners of the earth, grafting the qualities of 
older stocks upon one stem ; mingling the 
blood of many races in a common stream, 
and swelling the rich volume of our English 
speech with varied music from an hundred 
tongues. 

You have a long and glorious history, a 
past glittering with heroic deeds, an ancestry 
full of lofty and imperishable examples. You 
have passed through danger, endured priva- 
tion, been acquainted with sorrow, been tried 
by suffering. You have journeyed in safety 



through the wilderness and crossed in tri- 
umph the Red Sea of civil strife, and the 
foot of Him who led you hath not faltered 
nor the light of His countenance been turned 
away. 

It is a question for us now, not of the 
founding of a new government, but of the 
preservation of one already old ; not of the 
formation of an independent power, but of 
the purification of a nation's life; not of the 
conquest of a foreign foe, but of the subjec- 
tion of ourselves. The capacity of man to 
rule himself is to be proven in the days to 
come, not by the greatness of his wealth ; 
not by his valor in the field ; not by the ex« 
tent of his dominion, nor by the splendor c& 
his genius. 

The dangers of to-day come from within. 
The worship of self, the love of power, the 
lust for gold, the weakening of faith, the de- 
cay of public virtue, the lack of private worth 
— these are the perils which threaten our 
future; these are the enemies we have to 
fear ; these are the traitors which infest the 
camp; and the danger was far less when 
Catiline knocked with his army at the gates 
of Rome, than when he sat smiling in the 
Senate House. We see them daily face to 
face ; in the walk of virtue ; in the road to 
wealth; in the path to honor; on the way to 
happiness. There is no peace between them 
and our safety. Nor can we avoid them and 
turn back. It is not enough to rest upon the 
past. No man or nation can stand still. We 
must mount upward or go down. We must 
grow worse or better. It is *he Eternal 
Law — we cannot change it. 



212 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



My countrymen : this anniversary has gone 
by forever, and my task is done. While I 
have spoken, the hour has passed from us ; 
the hand has moved upon the dial, and the 
old century is dead. The American Union 
hath endured an hundred years! Here, on 
this threshold of the future, the voice of 
humanity shall not plead to us in vain. 
There shall be darkness in the days to come ; 
danger for our courage ; temptation for our 
virtue; doubt for our faith; suffering for 



our fortitude. A thousand shall fall before 
us, and tens of thousands at our right 
hand. The years shall pass beneath our 
feet, and century follow century in quick 
succession. The generations of men shall 
come and go; the greatness of yesterday 
shall be forgotten; to-day and the glories of 
this noon shall vanish before to-morrow's 
sun; but America shall not perish, but endure 
while the spirit of our fathers animates their 
sons. 



SPEECH OF SHREWSBURY BEFORE QUEEN ELIZABETH. 

BY FREDERIC VON SCHILLER. 



' ) OD whose most wondrous hand has 
*) I four times protected you, and who 
to-day gave the feeble arm of gray 
hairs strength to turn aside the stroke of a 
madman, should inspire confidence. I will not 
now speak in the name of justice : this is not 
the time. In such a tumult, you cannot 
hear her still small voice. Consider this 
only : you are fearful now of the living Mary ; 
but I say it is not the living you have to 
fear. Tremble at the dead — the beheaded. 
She will rise from the grave a fiend of dis- 
sension. She will awaken the spirit of re- 
venge in your kingdom, and wean the hearts 
of your subjects from you. At present she 
is an object of dread to the British; but 
when she is no more, they will revenge her. 
No longer will she then be regarded as 



the enemy of their faith ; her mournful fate 
will cause her to appear as the grand-daugh- 
ter of their king, the victim of man's hatred, 
and woman's jealousy. Soon will you see 
the change appear ! Drive through London 
after the bloody deed has been done ; show 
yourself to the people, who now surround 
you with joyful acclamations : then will you 
see another England, another people ! No 
longer will you then walk forth encircled by 
the radiance of heavenly justice which now 
binds every heart to you. Dread the fright- 
ful name of tyrant which will precede you 
through shuddering hearts, and resound 
through every street where you pass. You 
have done the last irrevocable deed. What 
head stands fast when this sacred one has 
fallen ? 



THE PROSPECTS OF THE REPUBLIC. 

BY EDWARD EVERETT. 



(b\ HIS, then, is the theatre on which the 

4 I intellect of America is to appear, and 

such the motives to its exertion, such 

the mass to be influenced by its energies, 

such the crowd to witness its efforts, such the 



glory to crown its success. If I err in this 
happy vision of my country's fortunes. I 
thank God for an error so animating. If this 
be false may i never know the truth. Never 
may you, my friends, be under any other 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



213 



feeling t*»an that a great, a growing, an im- 
measurably expanding country is calling upon 
you for your best services. 

The most powerful motives call on us 
for those efforts which our common coun- 
try demands of all her children. Most of 
us are of that class who owe whatever of 
knowledge has shone into our minds, to 
the free and popular institutions of our 
native land. There are few of us, who may 
not be permitted to boast, that we have 
been reared in an honest poverty or a frugal 
competence, and owe everything to those 
means of education which are equally open 
to all. 

We are summoned to new energy and zeal 
by the high nature of the experiment we are 
appointed in Providence to make, and the 
grandeur of the theatre on which it is to be 
performed. When the Old World afforded 
no longer any hope, it pleased Heaven to 
open this last refuge of humanity. The at- 
tempt has begun, and is going on, far from 
foreign corruption, on the broadest scale, and 
under the most benignant prospects ; and it 
certainly rests with us to solve the great 
problem in human society, to settle, and that 
forever, that momentous question — whether 
mankind can be trusted with a purely popu- 
lar system ? 

One might almost think, without extrava- 
gance, that the departed wise and good of all 



places and times are looking down from their 
happy seats to witness what shall now be 
done by us; that they who lavished their 
treasures and their blood of old, who labored 
and suffered, who spake and wrote, who 
fought and perished, in the one great cause 
of freedom and truth, are now hanging from 
their orbs on high, over the last solemn ex- 
periment of humanity. 

As I have wandered over the spots, once 
the scene of their labors, and mused among 
the prostrate columns of their senate houses 
and forums, I have seemed almost to hear a 
voice from the tombs of departed ages ; from 
the sepulchers of the nations, which died be- 
fore the sight. They exhort us, they adjure 
us, to be faithful to our trust. 

They implore u^, by the long trials of 
struggling humanity, by the blessed memory 
of the departed ; by the dear faith, which has 
been plighted by pure hands, to the holy 
cause of truth and man ; by the awful secret? 
of the prison houses, where the sons of free- 
dom have been immured ; by the noble head? 
which have been brought to the block ; by 
the wrecks of time, by the eloquent ruins of 
nations, they conjure us not to quench the 
light which is rising on the world. Greece 
cries to us, by the convulsed lips of her pois- 
oned, dying Demosthenes ; and Rome pleads 
with us, in the mute persuasion of her man- 
gled Tully. 



THE PEOPLE ALWAYS CONQUER. 

BY EDWARD EVERETT. 

As a finished scholar and eloquent speaker, Mr. Everett gained the highest distinction. His silvery 
tones and flowery periods held multitudes spellbound. His orations were always prepared with the 
greatest care, delivered from memory, and are models of elevated thought and sentiment and brilliant 
diction. He was the finished orator, noted for the classic beauty of his writings. 




IR, in the efforts of the people — of 
the people struggling for their 
rights — moving, not in organized, 



disciplined masses, but in their spontaneous 
action, man for man, and heart for heart-~ 
there is something glorious. They can then 



214 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



move forward without orders, act together 
without combination, and brave the flaming 
lines of battle without entrenchments to 
cover or walls to shield them. 

No dissolute camp has worn off from the 
feelings of the youthful soldier the freshness 
of that home, where his mother and his sis- 
ters sit waiting, with tearful eyes and aching 
hearts, to hear good news from the wars ; no 
long service in the ranks of a conqueror has 
turned the veteran's heart into marble. 
Their valor springs not from recklessness, 
from habit, from indifference to the preserva- 
tion of a life knit by no pledges to the life of 
others ; but in the strength and spirit of the 
cause alone, they act, they contend, they 
bleed. In this they conquer. 

The people always conquer. They always 
must conquer. Armies may be defeated, 
kings may be overthrown, and new dynas- 
ties imposed, by foreign arms, on an ignor- 
ant and slavish race, that cares not in what 



language the covenant of their subjection 
runs, nor in whose name the deed of then 1 
barter and sale is made out. 

But the people never invade ; and, when 
they rise against the invader, are never sub- 
dued. If they are driven from the plains, 
they fly to the mountains. Steep rocks and 
everlasting hills are their castles ; the tangled, 
pathless thicket their palisado ; and nature, 
God, is their ally ! Now he overwhelms the 
hosts of their enemies beneath his drifting 
mountains of sand ; now he buries them be- 
neath a falling atmosphere of polar snows ; 
He lets loose his tempest on their fleets ; 
He puts a folly into their counsels, a mad- 
ness into the hearts of their leaders; He 
never gave, and never will give, a final tri- 
umph over a virtuous and gallant people, re- 
solved to be free. 

" For Freedom's battle once begun, 
Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son 
Though baffled oft, is ever won." 



TO THE SURVIVORS OF BUNKER HILL. 

BY DANIEL WEBSTER. 

One ot the towering names in American statesmanship is that of Daniel Webster, " the great defendei 
of the Constitution." Mr. Webster was not more remarkable for intellectual power than he was for mas- 
terly eloquence. His triumphs in Senatorial debate and on great public occasions are historic. In person 
he was large and brawny, with a swarthy complexion, massive head, and always conveyed the impression 
of strength, and, at times, even of majesty. His orations are masterpieces of patriotic fenror and scholarly 
culture. 

fENERABLE men : you have come 
down to us from a former generation. 
Heaven has bounteously lengthened 
out your lives that you might behold this 
joyous day. You are now where you stood 
fifty years ago, this very hour, with your 
brothers and your neighbors, shoulder to 
shoulder, in the strife of your country. Be- 
hold how altered ! The same heavens are 
indeed over your heads ; the same ocean 
rolls at your feet; but all else, how changed I 



You hear now no roar of hostile cannon, you 
see no mixed volumes of smoke and flame 
rising from burning Charlestown. 

The ground strewed with the dead and 
the dying ; the impetuous charge ; the steady 
and successful repulse \ the loud call to re- 
peated assault ; the summoning of all that i* 
manly to repeated resistance; a thousand 
bosoms freely and fearlessly bared in an in- 
stant to whatever of terror there may be in 
war and death; — all these you have xrit* 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS, 



215 



messed, but you witness them no more. All 
is peace. The heights of yonder metropolis, 
its towers and roofs, which you then saw 
filled with wives and children and country- 
men in distress and terror, and looking with 
unutterable emotions for the issue of the 
combat, have presented you to-day with the 
sight of its whole happy population, come 
out to welcome and greet you with a univer- 
sal jubilee. 

Yonder proud ships, by a felicity of posi- 
tion appropriately lying at the foot of this 
mount, and seeming fondly to cling around 
it, are not means of annoyance to you, but 
your country's own means of distinction and 
defence. All is peace ; and God has granted 
you this sight of your country's happiness, 
ere you slumber in the grave for ever. He 
has allowed you to behold and partake the 
reward of your patriotic toils; and he has 
allowed us, your sons and countrymen, to 
meet you here, and in the name of the pres- 



ent generation, in the name of your country, 
in the name of liberty, to thank you ! 

But, alas ! you are not all here ! Time and 
the sword have thinned your ranks. Pres- 
cott, Butnam, Stark, Brooks, Read, Pomeroy,, 
Bridge ! our eyes seek for you in vain amidst 
this broken band. You are gathered to your 
fathers, and live only to your country in her 
grateful remembrance and your own bright 
example. But let us not too much grieve 
that you have met the common fate of men. 
You lived at least long enough to know that 
your work had been nobly and successfully 
accomplished. You lived to see your coun- 
try's independence established and to sheathe 
your swords from war. On the light of lib- 
erty you saw arise the light of Peace, like 

"another morn, 
Risen on mid-noon ; " — 

and the sky on which you closed your eyes 
was cloudless. 



SOUTH CAROLINA AND MASSACHUSETTS. 



(3The 



BY DANIEL WEBSTER. 



HE eulogium pronounced on the char- 
* I acter of the State of South Carolina 
by the honorable gentleman, for her 
revolutionary and other merits, meets my 
hearty concurrence. I shall not acknowledge 
that the honorable member goes before me 
in regard for whatever of distinguished tal- 
ent, or distinguished character, South Caro- 
lina has produced. I claim part of the honor ; 
I partake in the pride of her great names. I 
claim them for countrymen, one and all. The 
Laurenses, Rutledges, the Pinckneys, the 
Sumters, the Marions — Americans all — 
whose fame is no more to be hemmed in by 
state lines, than their talents and patriotism 
were capable of being circumscribed within 
the same narrow limits. 



In their day and generation, they served 
and honored the country, the whole country, 
and their renown is of the treasures of the 
whole country. Him whose honored name 
the gentleman bears himself — does he sup- 
pose me less capable of gratitude for his pa- 
triotism, or sympathy for his sufferings, than 
if his eyes had first opened upon the light in 
Massachusetts instead of South Carolina ? 
Sir, does he suppose it in his power to ex- 
hibit a Carolina name so bright as to produce 
envy in my bosom ? No, sir — increased 
gratification and delight, rather. Sir, I thank 
God, that if I am gifted with little of the spirit 
which is said to be able to raise mortals to 
the skies, I have yet none, as I trust, of that 
other spirit which would drag angels down, 



216 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



When I. shall be found, sir, in my place 
here in the Senate, or elsewhere, to sneer at 
public merit, because it happened to spring 
up beyond the limits of my own State and 
neighborhood ; when I refuse, for any such 
cause, or for any cause, the homage due to 
American talent, to elevated patriotism, to 
sincere devotion to liberty and the country ; 
or if I see an uncommon endowment of 
heaven — if I see extraordinary capacity and 
virtue in any son of the South — and if, moved 
by local prejudice, or gangrened by State 
jealousy, I get up here to abate the tithe of a 
hair, from his just character and just fame, 



may my tongue cleave to the roof of my 
mouth ! 

I shall enter on no encomium upon Massa- 
chusetts — she needs none. There she is — 
behold her and judge for yourselves. There 
is her history — the world knows it by heart. 
The past, at least, is secure. There is Boston 
and Concord, and Lexington, and Bunker's 
Hill ; and there they will remain forever. 
The bones of her sons, fallen in the great 
struggle for independence, now lie mingled 
with the soil of every State, from New Eng- 
land to Georgia ; and there they will lie for- 
ever. 



EULOGIUM ON SOUTH CAROLINA. 

BY ROBERT T. HAYNE. 

This distinguished American orator was born in the parish of Saint Paul, South Carolina. His eminent 
ability soon secured for him a seat in the United States Senate. The following is from one of his orations 
delivered in the celebrated controversy between himself and Daniel Webster. It is a glowing defense of 
his native state, and is memorable in the annals of forensic eloquence. 



fF there be one State in the Union, and I 
say it not in a boastful spirit, that may 
challenge comparison with any other 
for a uniform, zealous, ardent, and uncalcu- 
lating devotion to the Union, that State is 
South Carolina. From the very commence- 
ment of the Revolution, up to this hour, 
there is no sacrifice, however great, she has 
not cheerfully made, no service she has ever 
hesitated to perform. She has adhered to 
you in your prosperity ; but in your adversity 
she has clung to you with more than filial 
affection. 

No matter what was the condition of her 
domestic affairs, though deprived of her re- 
sources, divided by parties, or surrounded 
by difficulties, the call of the country has 
been to her as the voice of God. Domestic 
discord ceased at the sound; every man 
became reconciled to his brethren, and the 
sons of Carolina were all seen crowding to- • 



gether to the temple, bringing their gifts to 
the altar of their common country. 

What was the conduct of the South dur- 
ing the Revolution? I honor New England 
for her conduct in that glorious struggle. 
But, great as is the praise which belongs to 
her, I think at least equal honor is due to 
the South. They espoused the quarrel of 
their brethren with a generous zeal which 
did not suffer them to stop to calculate their 
interest in the dispute. Favorites of the 
mother country, possessed of neither ships 
nor seamen to create a commercial rivalship, 
they might have found, in their situation, a 
guarantee that their trade would be forever 
fostered and protected by Great Britain. 
But trampling on all considerations, either of 
interest or safety, they rushed into the con- 
flict, and, fighting for principle, perilled all 
in the sacred cause of freedom. 

Never was there exhibited in the history 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



21? 



of the world higher examples of noble dar- 
ing, dreadful suffering, and heroic endurance 
than by the Whigs of Carolina during the 
Revolution! The whole State, from the 
mountains to the sea, was overrun by an 
overwhelming force of the enemy. The 
fruits of industry perished on the spot where 
they were produced, or were consumed by 
the foe. 

The " plains of Carolina " drank up the 



most precious blood of her citizens. Black 
and smoking ruins marked the places which 
had been the habitations of her children. 
Driven from their homes into the gloomy 
and almost impenetrable swamps, even there 
the spirit of liberty survived, and South Car- 
olina, sustained by the example of her Sum 
ters and her Marions, proved, by her con 
duct, that, though her soil might be overrun, 
the spirit of her people was invincible. 



THE CHARACTER OF WASHINGTON. 

BY WENDELL PHILLIPS. 

It has been said of Mr. Phillips that in his public addresses he was "a gentleman talking," s,o 
easy and graceful was his manner. " The golden-mouthed Phillips " was also an appropriate title. 
Considered simply as an orator, perhaps our country has never produced his superior. 



<jjYT matters very little what spot may have 
Hi been the birthplace of Washington. No 
eUL people can claim, no country can ap- 
propriate him. The boon of Providence to 
the human race, his fame is eternity, and his 
residence creation. Though it was the de- 
feat of our arms, and the disgrace of our 
policy, I almost bless the convulsion in which 
he had his origin. If the heavens thundered, 
and the earth rocked, yet, when the storm 
had passed, how pure was the climate that it 
cleared; how bright, in the brow of the 
firmament, was the planet which it revealed 
to us ! 

In the production of Washington, it does 
really appear as if Nature was endeavoring 
to improve upon herself, and that all the vir- 
tues of the ancient world were but so many 
studies preparatory to the patriot of the new. 
Individual instances, no doubt, there were, 
splendid exemplifications of some singular 
qualification ; Caesar was merciful, Scipio was 
continent, Hannibal was patient ; but it was 
reserved for Washington to bind them all in 
one, and, like the lovely masterpiece of the 
Grecian artist, to exhibit, in ©n§ glow ©f as» 



sociated beauty, the pride of every model, 
and the perfection of every master. 

As a general, he marshalled the peasant 
into a veteran, and supplied by discipline the 
absence of experience ; as a statesman, he 
enlarged the policy of the cabinet into the 
most comprehensive system of general ad- 
vantage ; and such was the wisdom of his 
views, and the philosophy of his counsels, 
that to the soldier, and the statesman he al- 
most added the character of the sage ! A 
conqueror, he was untainted with the crime 
of blood ; a revolutionist, he was free from 
any stain of treason ; for aggression com- 
menced the contest, and his country called 
him to the command. 

Liberty unsheathed his sword, necessity 
stained, victory returned it. If he had paused 
here, history might have doubted what sta- 
tion to assign him ; whether at the head of 
her citizens or her soldiers, her heroes or 
her patriots. But the last glorious act crowns 
his career, and banishes all hesitation. 

Who, like Washington, after having eman- 
cipated a hemisphere, resigned its crown, 
and preferred the retirement ef domestic life 



218 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



to the adoration of a Jand he might almost 
be said to have created ? 

: * How shall we rank thee upon Glory's page, 
Thou more than soldier, and just less than sage? 
All thou hast been reflects less fame on thee, 
Far less, than all thou hast forborne to be ! " 



Such, sir, is the testimony of one not to be 
accused of partiality in his estimate of Ame- 
rica. Happy, proud America! The light- 
nings of heaven yielded to your philosophy ! 
The temptations of earth could not seduce 
your patriotism. 



NATIONAL MONUMENT TO WASHINGTON. 

BY ROBERT C. WINTHROP. 
One of " Boston's hundred orators " is the author of this eloquent oration, which was delivered at the 
laying of the corner- stone of Washington's monument, that imposing shaft which is one of the greatest 
objects of interest at our national capital. Scarcely any finer tribute was ever paid to the Father of his 
Country. It should be delivered with full volume of voice and sustained energy. 



LfELLOW-CITIZENS, let us seize this 
occasion to renew to each other our 
vows of allegiance and devotion to 
the American Union, and let us recognize 
in our common title to the name and the 
fame of Washington, and in our common 
veneration for his example and his advice, 
the all-sufficient centripetal power, which 
shall hold the thick clustering stars of our 
confederacy in one glorious constellation for- 
ever ! Let the column which we are about 
to construct be at once a pledge and an 
emblem of perpetual union ! 

Let the foundations be laid, let the super- 
structure be built up and cemented, let each 
^tone be raised and riveted in a spirit of 
national brotherhood ! And may the earliest 
ray of the rising sun — till that sun shall set 
to rise no more — draw forth from it dally, as 
from the fabled statue of antiquity, a strain 
of national harmony, which shall strike a re- 
sponsive chord in every heart throughout 
the republic ! 

Proceed, then, fellow-citizens, with the work 
for which you have assembled. Lay the 
corner-stone of a monument which shall ade- 
quately bespeak the gratitude of the whole 
American people to the illustrious father of 
his country ! Build it to the skies ; you can 
not outreach the loftiness of his principles I 



Found it upon the massive and eternal rock," 
you can not make it more enduring than his 
fame! Construct it of the peerless Parian 
marble ; you cannot make it purer than his 
life ! Exhaust upon it the rules and principles 
of ancient and of modern art; you cannot 
make it more proportionate than his character. 

But let not your homage to his memory 
end here. Think not to transfer to a tablet 
or a column the tribute which is due from 
yourselves. Just honor to Washington can 
only be rendered by observing his precepts 
and imitating his example. He has built his 
own monument. We, and those who come 
after us, in successive generations, are its 
appointed, its privileged guardians. 

The wide-spread republic is the future 
monument to Washington. Maintain its in- 
dependence. Uphold its constitution. Pre- 
serve its union. Defend its liberty. Let it 
stand before the world in all its original 
strength and beauty, securing peace, order, 
equality, and freedom, to all within its bound- 
aries, and shedding light and hope and joy 
upon the pathway of human liberty through- 
out the world — and Washington needs no 
other monument. Other structures may tes- 
tify our veneration for him ; this, alone can 
adequately illustrate his service to mankind. 

Nor does he need even this. The republic 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



219 



may perish ; the wide arch of our ranged Union 
may fall ; star by star its glories may expire ; 
stone by stone its columns and its capitol may 
moulder and crumble ; all other names which 
adorn its annals may be forgotten; but as 



long as human hearts shall anywhere pant, or 
human tongues anywhere plead, for a true, ra 
tional, constitutional liberty, those hearts shall 
enshrine the memory, and those tongues 
prolong the fame, of George Washington. 



THE NEW WOMAN. 

BY FRANCES E. WILLARD. 

Although it is not customary to include women among orators, an exception must be made in the ca^ 
of Miss Willard. Few men have ever possessed her command over popular audiences. Her eloquence 
drew multitudes to listen to her burning appeals in behalf of the reforms of the day, among whom were 
always many who protested that they " never liked to hear a woman talk in public." 

Miss Willard's remarkable gifts, her zeal and earnestness, and her devotion to her cause, gave her a 
world-wide reputation. This extract from one of her eloquent public addresses js bright in thought, whole- 
some in sentiment, and is a model of effective speech. 



>ET us be grateful that our horizon is 
widening. We women have learned 
to reason from effect to cause. It 
is considered a fine sign of a thinker to be 
able to reason from cause to effect. But we, 
in fourteen years' march, have learned to go 
from the drunkard in the gutter, who was 
the object lesson we first saw, back to the 
children, as you will hear to-night ; back to 
the idea of preventive, educational, evangel- 
istic, social, and legal work for temperance ; 
back to the basis of the saloon itself. 

We have found that the liquor traffic is 
joined hand in hand with the very sources of 
the National Government. And we have come 
to the place where we want prohibition, first, 
last, and all the time. While the brewer talks 
about his " vested interests," I lend my voice 
to the motherhood of the nation that has 
gone down into the valley of unutterable pain 
and in the shadow of death, with the dews 
of eternity upon the mother's brow, given 
birth and being to the sons who are the 
" vested interests " of America's homes. 

We offset the demand of the brewer and 
distiller, that you shall protect their ill-gotten 
gains, with the thought of these most sacred 
treasures, dear to the hearts that you, our 



brothers, honor — dear to the hearts that you 
love best. I bring to you this thought, to- 
night, that you shall vote to represent us, and 
hasten the time when we can represent our- 
selves. 

I believe that we are going out into this 
work, being schooled and inspired for greater 
things than we have dreamed, and that the 
army of women will prove the grandest sis- 
terhood the world has ever known. As I 
have seen the love and kindness and good- 
will of women who differed so widely from 
us politically and religiously, and yet have 
found away down in the depths of their 
hearts the utmost love and affection, I have 
said, what kind of a world will this be when 
all women are as fond of each other as we 
strong-minded women are ? 

Home is the citadel of everything that is 
good and pure on earth ; nothing must enter 
there to defile, neither anything which loveth 
or maketh a lie And it shall be found that 
all society needed to make it altogether 
homelike was the home-folks ; that all gov- 
ernment needed to make it altogether pure 
from the fumes of tobacco and the debasing 
effects of strong drink, was the home-folks ; 
that wherever you put a woman who has the 



220 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



atmosphere 01 home about her, she brings 
in the good time of pleasant and friendly- 
relationship, and points with the finger of 
hope and the eye of faith always to some- 
thing better — always it is better farther on. 

As I look around and see the heavy cloud 
of apathy under which so many still are 
«tifled, who take no interest in these things, 



I just think they do not half mean the hard 
words that they sometimes speak to us, or 
they wouldn't if they knew; and, after awhile, 
they will have the same views I have, spell 
them with a capital V, and all be harmonious, 
like Barnum's happy family, a splendid men- 
agerie of the whole human race — clear-eyed, 
kind and victorious 1 



AN APPEAL FOR LIBERTY. 

BY JOSEPH STORY. 



I CALL upon you, fathers, by the shades 
of your ancestors — by the dear ashes 
which repose in this precious soil — by 
all you are, and all you hope to be — resist 
every object of disunion, resist every en- 
croachment upon your liberties, resist every 
attempt to fetter your consciences, or smother 
your public schools, or extinguish your sys- 
tem of public instruction. 

I call upon you, mothers, by that which 
never fails in woman, the love of your off- 
spring; teach them, as they climb your 
knees, or lean on your bosoms, the blessings 
of liberty. Swear them at the altar, as with 
their baptismal vows, to be true to their 
country, and never to forget or forsake her. 

I call upon you, young men, to remember 
whose sons you are ; whose inheritance you 
possess. Life can never be too short, which 
brings nothing but disgrace and oppres- 
sion Death never comes too soon, if ne- 



cessary in defence of the liberties of your 
country. 

I call upon you, old men, for your coun- 
sels, and your prayers, and your benedictions. 
May not your gray hairs go down in sorrow 
to the grave, with the recollection that you 
have lived in vain. May not your last sun 
sink in the west upon a nation of slaves. 

No; I read in the destiny of my country far 
better hopes, far brighter visions. We, who are 
now assembled here, must soon be gathered 
to the congregation of other days. The time 
of our departure is at hand, to make way 
for our children upon the theatre of life. May 
God speed them and theirs. May he who, 
at the distance of another century, shall stand 
here to celebrate this day, stilt look round 
upon a free, happy, and virtuous people. May 
he have reason to exult as we do. May he, 
with all the enthusiasm of truth as well as of 
poetry, exclaim, that here is still his country. 



THE TRUE SOURCE OF REFORM. 

BY EDWIN H. CHAPIN. 
As a pulpit orator and lecturer Mr. Chapin was widely known and popular. His style was ornate and 
finished, and when to this was added his grand voice and magnetic delivery, his audiences could not resist 
the charm of his eloquence. His opinions placed him in the front ranks of reformers. 



<3The 



HE great element of reform is not born 
of human wisdom, it does not draw 
its life from human organizations. I 



find it only in Christianity. " Thy kingdom 
come!" There is a sublime and pregnant 
burden in this prayer. It is the aspiration 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



22 s 



of every soul that goes forth in the spirit of 
Reform. For what is the significance of 
this prayer? It is a petition that all holy 
influences would penetrate and subdue and 
dwell in the heart of man, until he shall 
think, and speak, and do good, from the very 
necessity of his being. 

So would the institutions of error and 
wrong crumble and pass away. So would 
sin die out from the earth ; and the human 
soul living in harmony with the Divine 
will, this earth would become like heaven. 
It is too late for the reformers to sneer 
at Christianity — it is foolishness for them 
to reject it. In it are enshrined our faith 
in human progress — our confidence in re- 
form It is indissolubly connected with 
all that is hopeful, spiritual, capable, in 
man. 

That men have misunderstood it, and 
perverted i't, is true. But it is also true that 
the noblest efforts for human melioration 
have come out of it — have been based upon 
it. Is it not so? Come, ye remembered 
ones, who sleep the sleep of the just — who 
took your conduct from the line of Christian 
philosophy — come from your tombs, and 
answer ! 

Come, Howard, from the gloom of the 
prison and the taint of the lazar-house, and 



show us what philanthropy can do when 
imbued with the spirit of Jesus. Come, 
Eliot, from the thick forest where the red 
man listens to the Word of Life; — Come, 
Penn, from thy sweet counsel and weapon- 
less victory — and show us what Christian 
zeal and Christian love can accomplish with 
the rudesr barbarians or the fiercest hearts. 
Come, Raikes, from thy labors with the 
ignorant and the poor, and show us with 
what an eye this faith regards the lowest 
and least of our race ; and how diligently it 
labors, not for the body, not foi the rank, 
but for the plastic soul that is to course the 
ages of immortality. 

And ye, who are a great number — ye 
nameless ones — who have done good in 
your narrow spheres, content to forego 
renown on earth, and seeking your reward 
in the record on high — come and tell us 
how kindly a spirit, how lofty a purpose, or 
how strong a courage the religion ye pro- 
fessed can breathe into the poor, the hum- 
ble, and the weak. Go forth, then, Spirit of 
Christianity, to thy great work of Reform ! 
The past bears witness to thee in the blood 
of thy martyrs, and the ashes of thy saints 
and heroes; the present is hopeful because 
of thee ; the future shall acknowledge thy 
omnipotence. 



APPEAL TO YOUNG MEN. 

BY LYMAN BEECHER. 

A rather small wiry man with strong face, compact fibre, quick motions, great earnestness and pulpit 
ability of the highest order — this was Lyman Beecher. He made himself especially prominent in the early 
days of the temperance reformation. The selection here given is one of many similar utterances and is fuli 
of force and fire. 



•" "iOULD I call around me in one vast 

I VX assembly the temperate young men 

^js ^ of our land, I would say, — Hopes 

of the nation, blessed be ye of 

the Lord now in the dew of your youth. 



But look well to your footsteps ; for vipers, 
and scorpions, and adders surround your 
way. 

Look at the generation who have just pre- 
ceded you : the morning of their life was 



222 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



cloudless, and ii dawned as brightly as 
your own ; but behold them bitten, swol- 
len, enfeebled, inflamed, debauched, idle, 
poor, irreligious, and vicious, with halt- 
ing step dragging onward to meet an 
tarty grave ! Their bright prospects are 
clouded, and their sun is set never to rise. 

No hoase of their own receives them 

i 

while from poorer to poorer tenements 
they descend, and to harder and harder 
fare, as improvidence dries up their re- 
sources. 

And now, who are those that wait on their 
footsteps with muffled faces and sable gar- 
ments? That is a father — and that is a 
mother — whose gray hairs are coming with 
sorrow to the grave. That is a sister, weep- 
ing over evils which she cannot arrest; 
and there is the broken-hearted wife; and 
there are the children, hapless innocents, 
for whom their father has provided the in- 



heritance only of dishonor, and nakedness, 
and woe. 

And is this, beloved young men, the 
history of your course ? In this scene of 
desolation, do you behold the image of 
your future selves? Is this the poverty 
and disease which, as an armed man, shall 
take hold on you? And are your father^ 
and mothers, and sisters, and wives, and 
children, to succeed to those who now move 
on in this mournful procession, weeping 
as they go? Yes: bright as your morn- 
ing now opens, and high as your hopes 
beat, this is your noon, and your night, 
unless you shun those habits of intemper- 
ance which have thus early made theirs a 
day of clouds, and of thick darkness. If 
you frequent places of evening resort for 
social drinking; if you set out with drinking, 
daily, a little, temperately, prudently, it is 
yourselves which, as in a glass, you hehold. 



THE PILGRIMS. 

BY CHAUNCEY M. DEPEW. 

Mr. Depew is considered one of the foremost of our American orators, and it is enough to say he has 
risen to this distinction in a land noted for the eloquence of its public men. He is an excellent extempora- 
neous speaker, is graceful and easy in manner, fluent in utterance,, and has a touch of humor that renders 
him popular. His tribute to the Pilgrims is worthy of a theme so inspiring. 



SThe 1 ! 



HEY were practical statesmen, these 
^ I Pilgrims. They wasted no time theo- 
rizing upon methods, but went straight 
at the mark. They solved the Indian prob- 
lem with shot-guns, and it was not General 
Sherman, but Miles Standish, who originated 
the axiom that the only good Indians are the 
dead ones. They were bound by neither 
customs nor traditions, nor committals to 
this or that policy. The only question with 
them was, Does it work? The success of 
their Indian experiment led them to try 
similar methods with witches, Quakers and 
Baptists. 



Theit failure taught them the difference 
between mind and matter. A dead savage 
was another wolf under ground, but one oi 
themselves persecuted or killed for conscience 
sake sowed the seed of discontent and disbe- 
lief. The effort to wall in a creed and wall 
out liberty was at once abandoned, and to- 
day New England has more religions and 
not less religion, but less bigotry, than any 
other community in the world. 

In an age when dynamite was unknown, 
the Pilgrim invented in the cabin of the May- 
flower the most powerful of explosives. The 
declaration of the equality of all men before 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



22b 



the law has rocked thrones and consolidated 
classes. It separated the colonies from Great 
Britain and created the United States. It 
pulverized the chains of the slaves and gave 
manhood suffrage. It devolved upon the 
individual the functions of government and 
made the people the sole source of power. 
It substituted the cap of liberty for the royal 
crown in France, and by a bloodless revolu- 
tion has added to the constellation of Ameri- 
can republics, the star of Brazil. 

But with the ever-varying conditions inci- 
dent to free government, the Puritan's talent 
as a political mathematician will never rust. 
Problems of the utmost importance press 
upon him for solution. When, in the effort 
to regulate the liquor traffic, he has advanced 
beyond the temper of the times and the sen- 



timent of the people in the attempt to enact 
or enforce prohibition, and either been disas- 
trously defeated or the flagrant evasions of 
the statutes have brought the law into con- 
tempt, he does not despair, but tries to find 
fne error in his calculation. 

If gubernatorial objections block the way 
of high license he will bombard the executive 
judgment and conscience by a proposition to 
tax. The destruction of homes, the ruin of 
the young, the increase of pauperism and 
crime, the added burdens upon the taxpayers 
by the evils of intemperance, appeal with 
resistless force to his training and traditions. 
As the power of the saloon increases the 
difficulties of the task, he becomes more and 
more certain that some time or other and in 
some way or other he will do that sum too. 



PATRIOTISM A REALITY. 

BY THOMAS FRANCIS MEAGHER. 

All Americans ought to feel kindly disposed toward this eloquent Irish patriot, for he nov only risked hia 
iife in the cause of Irish liberty, but also in our own Civil War. This oration has a rugged strength and 
blunt earnestness quite characteristic of the man. Let it not be delivered in any feeble halting manner, but 
with all your nerve and energy. 




'IR, the pursuit of liberty must cease 
to be a traffic. It must resume 
among us its ancient glory — be 
with us an active heroism. Once 
for all, sir, we must have an end of this 
money making in the public forum. We 
must ennoble the strife for liberty; make it a 
gallant sacrifice, not a vulgar game; rescue 
the cause of Ireland from the profanation of 
those who beg, and from the control of those 
who bribe ! 

Ah! trust not those dull philosophers of 
the age, those wretched sceptics, who, to re- 
Duke our enthusiasm, our folly, would per- 
suade us that patriotism is but a delusion, a 
dn?am of youth, a wild and glittering passion; 
tfiat 't has died out in this nineteenth century ; 



that it cannot exist with our advanced civili- 
zation — with the steam-engine and free trade ! 

False — false! — The virtue that gave to 
Paganism its dazzling lustre, to Barbarism its 
redeeming trait, to Christianity its heroic 
form, is not dead. It still lives, to preserve, 
to console, to sanctify humanity. It has its 
altar in every clime — its worship and festivi- 
ties. On the heathered hills of Scotland, the 
sword of Wallace is yet a bright tradition. 
The genius of France, in the brilliant litera- 
ture of the day, pays its high homage to the 
piety and heroism of the young Maid of 
Orleans. 

In her new senate hall, England bids her 
sculptor place among the effigies of her 
greatest sons the images of Hampden and 



224 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



of Russell. By the soft blue waters of Lake 
Lucerne stands the chapel of William Tell. 
At Innsbruck, in the black aisle of the old 
cathedral, the peasant of the Tyrol kneels 
before the statue of Andrew Hofer. In the 
great American republic — in that capital city 
which bears hi:? name — rises the monument 
of the Father of his country. 

Sir, shall we not join in this glorious hom- 
age, and here in this island, consecrated by 
the blood of m uiy a good and gallant man, 
shall we not have the faith, the duties, the 
festivities, of patriotism? You discard the 



weapons of these heroic men — do not discan 
the virtues. Elevate the national character 
confront corruption wherever it appears 
scourge it from the hustings ; scourge it 
from the public forum; and, whilst proceed- 
ing with the noble task to which you have 
devoted your lives and fortunes, let this 
thought enrapture and invigorate your hearts : 
That in seeking the independence of your 
country, you have preserved her virtue — 
preserved it at once from the seductions of a 
powerful minister, and from the infidelity c 
kad citizens. 



THE GLORY OF ATHENS. 

BY LORD MACAULAY. 

As a historian Macaulay has a world-wide reputation. As a poet he takes high rank. As an orat ># 
his speeches are characterized by lofty thought, felicitious language and the most elaborate style. I wouig 
-jail him a graceful giant. The last paragraph of the following selection in which he predicts the final dec;T 
of England, has created an endless amount of comment and criticism. Concerning the beauty and grandei 
of this selection from his writings, there can be but one opinion. 

(gY*^LL the triumphs of truth and genius kar, in the senate; in the field of battle, i 
§^\ over prejudice and power, in every the schools of philosophy. 

But these are not her glory. Surely it is i. 



LL the triumphs of truth and genius 
over prejudice and power, in every 
y^lsV^ country and in every age, have 
been the triumphs of Athens. 
Whenever a few great minds have made a 
stand against violence and fraud, in the cause 
of liberty and reason, there has been her 
spirit in the midst of them ; inspiring, en- 
couraging, and consoling. It stood by the 
lonely lamp of Erasmus ; by the restless bed 
of Pascal ; in the tribune of Mirabeau ; in 
the cell of Galileo ; on the scaffold of Sidney. 
But who shall estimate her influence on 
private happiness ? Who shall say how 
many thousands have been made wiser, hap- 
pier, and better, by those pursuits in which 
she has taught mankind to engage ; to how 
many the studies which took their rise from 
her have been wealth in poverty; fmow/ in 
bondage; health in sickness; society in soli- 
tude. H«r power is indeed manifested at the 



exaggeration to say, that no external advar •' 
tage is to be compared with that purificatio 
of the intellectual eye, which gives us to con 
template the infinite wealth of the menta 
world ; all the hoarded treasures of the pri- 
meval dynasties, all the shapeless ore of thr, 
yet unexplored mines. 

This is the gift of Athens to man. Her 1 
freedom and her power have for more than 
twenty centuries been annihilated. Her peo- 
ple have degenerated into timid slaves ; her 
language, into a barbarous jargon. Her 
temples have been given up to the successive 
depredations of Romans, Turks, and Scotch- 
men ; but her intellectual empire is imperish- 
able. 

And, when those who have rivaled her 
greatness, shall have shared her fate ; when 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



226 



'.: ivilization and knowledge shall have fixed 
i , heir abode in distant continents; when the 
;;ceptre shall have passed away from England ; 
when, perhaps, travelers from distant regions 
shall in vain labor to decipher on some moul- 
dering pedestal the name of our proudest 
chief; and shall see a single naked fisherman 



wash his nets in the river of the ten thousand 
masts; her influence and her glory will still 
survive, fresh in eternal youth, exempt from 
mutability and decay, immortal as the intel- 
lectual principle from which they derived 
their origin, and over which they exercise 
their control. 



tr^"' * " Air 

THE IRISH CHURCH. 

BY WILLIAM E. GLADSTONE. 

No man in England, or in fact in the whole world, has gained so high a distinction in modern 
les for statesmanship and eloquence as Mr. Gladstone. Possessed of vast resources of brain and 
'ture, a remarkable command of language, an iron will and an enthusiasm in behalf of every cause 
espoused that was checked by no opposition, the " Grand Old Man," as he was called, was the most 
rjestic and commanding figure in English politics and literature for a generation. His oration on the 
sh Church is a good specimen of his impassioned oratory. 

[F we are prudent men, I hope we shall 
endeavor as far as in us lies to make 
some provision for a contingent, a 
mbtful, and probably a dangerous future, 
we be chivalrous men, I trust we shall en- 
;avor to wipe away all those stains which 
e civilized world has for ages seen, or 
emed to see, on the shield of England in 
jr treatment of Ireland. If we be compas- 
onate men, I hope we shall now, once for 
1, listen to the tale of woe which comes 
om her, and the reality ol which, if not its 
istice, is testified by the continuous emigra- 
■on of her people — that we shall endeavor 
o — 



** Pluck from her memory a rooted sorrow, 
And raze the written troubles from her brain." 

But, above all, if we be just men, we shall go 
forward in the name of truth and right, bear- 
ing this in mind — that, when the case is 
proved and the hour is come, justice delayed 
is justice denied. 

There are many who think that to lay 
hands upon the national Church Establish- 
ment of a country is a profane and unhal- 
awed act. I respect that feeling. I sym- 
15— f) 



pathize with it. I sympathize with it while 
I think it my duty to overcome and repress 
it. But if it be an error, it is an error enti- 
tled to respect. There is somethfng in the 
idea of a national establishment of religion, 
of a solemn appropriation of a part of the 
Commonwealth for conferring upon all who 
are ready to receive it what we know to be 
an inestimable benefit; of saving that portion 
of the inheritance from private selfishness, in 
order to extract from it, if we can, pure and 
unmixed advantages of the highest order for 
the population at large. 

There is something in this so attractive 
that it is an image that must always com- 
mand the homage of the many. It is some- 
what like the kingly ghost in Hamlet, di 
which one of the characters of Shakespeare 
says : — 

" We do it wrong, being so majestical, 
To offer it the show of violence ; 
For it is, as the air, invulnerable, 
And our vain blows malicious mockery." 

But, sir, this is to view a religious estab- 
lishment upon one side, only upon what I 
may call the ethereal side. It has likewise 



226 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



a side of earth ; and here I cannot do better 
than quote some lines written by the Arch- 
bishop of Dublin, at a time when his genius 
was devoted to the muses. He said, in 
speaking of mankind : 

" We who did our lineage high 
Draw from beyond the starry sky, 
Are yet upon the other side, 
To earth and to its dust allied." 

And so the Church Establishment, re- 
garded in its theory and in its aim, is beau- 
tiful and attractive. Yet what is it but an 
appropriation of public property, an appro- 
priation of the fruits of labor and of skill to 
certain purposes, and unless these purposes 
are fulfilled, that appropriation cannot be 
justified. Therefore, Sir, I cannot but feel 
that we must set aside fears which thrust 
themselves upon the imagination, and act 
upon the sober dictates of our judgment. 

I think it has been shown that the cause 
for action is strong — not for precipitate ac- 
tion, not for action beyond our powers, but 
for such action as the opportunities of the 
times and the condition of Parliament, if 



there be but a ready will, will amply and 
easily admit of. If I am asked as to my ex- 
pectations of the issue of this struggle, I 
begin frankly by avowing that I, for one, 
would not have entered into it unless I be- 
lieved that the final hour was about to sound. 

And I hope that the noble lord will for- 
give rac if I say that before Friday last I 
thought that the thread of the remaining life 
of the Irish Established Church was short, 
but that since Friday last, when at half-past 
four o'clock in the afternoon the noble lord 
stood at that table, I have regarded it as being 
shorter still. The issue is not in our hands. 

What we had and have to do is to con- 
sider well and deeply before we take the first 
step in an engagement such as this ; but 
having entered into the controversy, there 
and then to acquit ourselves like men, and 
to use every effort to remove what still re- 
mains of the scandals and calamities in the 
relations which exist between England and 
Ireland, and use our best efforts at least to 
fill up with the cement of human concord the 
noble fabric of the British empire. 



APPEAL TO THE HUNGARIANS. 

BY LOUIS KOSSUTH. 

The eminent Hungarian orator and statesman, whose name for a whole generation stood for liberty, 
visited our country in his early manhood and received an ovation wherever he went. His progress 
was a triumphal march. This was due not merely to the fact that he was exerting all his energies to 
liberate his country, but his reception was a tribute to his brilliant genius and overpowering eloquence. 
Kossuth was one of the most remarkable orators of modern times. The following selection is a fine 
illustration of his impassioned, burning eloquence. 




UR fatherland is in danger. Citizens 
of the fatherland! To arms! To 
arms ! If we believed the country 
could be saved by ordinary means, we would 
not cry that it is in danger. If we stood at 
the head of a cowardly, childish nation, 
which, in the hour of peril, prefers defeat to 
defence, we would not sound the alarm-bell. 



But because we know that the people of our 
land compose a manly nation, determined to 
defend itself against oppression, we call out 
in the loudest voice, " Our fatherland is in 
danger ! " Because we are sure that the na- 
tion is able to defend its hearths and homes, 
we announce the peril in all its magnitude, 
and appeal to our brethren, in the name of 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



22? 



God and their country, to look the danger 
boldly in the face. 

We will not smile and flatter. We say it 
plainly, that unless the nation rise, to a man, 
prepared to shed the last drop of blood, all 
our previous struggles will have been in vain. 
The noble blood that has flowed like water, 
will have been wasted. Our fatherland will be 
crushed to the earth. On the soil, where 
rest the ashes of our ancestors, the Russian 
knout will be wielded over a people reduced 
beneath the yoke of slavery. 

If we wish to shut our eyes to the danger, 
we shall thereby save no one from its power. 
If we represent the matter as it is, we make 
our country master of its own fate. If the 
breath of life is in our people, they will save 
themselves and their fatherland. But, if 
paralyzed by coward fear, they remain supine, 
all will be lost. God will help no man who 
does not help himself. We tell you that the 
Austrian Emperor sends the hordes of Rus- 
sian barbarians for your destruction. 

People of Hungary ! Would you die under 
the destroying sword of the barbarous Rus- 



sians ? If not, defend your own lives ! Would 
you see the Cossacks of the distant north 
trampling under foot the dishonored bodies 
of your fathers, your "wives, and your chil- 
dren ? If not, defend yourselves 1 Do you 
wish that your fellow-countrymen should be 
dragged away to Siberia, or should fight for 
tyrants in a foreign land, or writhe in slavery 
beneath a Russian scourge? If not, defend 
yourselves ! Would you see your villages in 
flames, and your harvest-fields in ruins? 
Would you die of hunger on the soil which 
you have cultivated with sweat and blood ? 
If not, defend yourselves ! 

This strife is not a strife between two hos- 
tile camps, but a war of tyranny against free- 
dom, of barbarians against the collective 
might of a free nation. Therefore must the 
whole people arise with the army. If these 
millions sustain our army, we have gained 
freedom and victory for universal Europe, as 
well as for ourselves. Therefore, O strong, 
gigantic people, unite with the army, and rush 
to the conflict. Ho ! every freeman 1 To arms! 
To arms ! Thus alone is victory certain. 



THE TYRANT VERRES DENOUNCED. 

BY CICERO. 

This oration is inserted here to furnish an example of the style of the great Roman orator whose elo- 
quence has beer proverbial from his time to the present. His patriotic utterances should stir the blood ol 
the reciter, and if they do this his hearers will share the inspiration. 

not the sentence his crimes deserve, it shall 




N opinion has long prevailed, fathers, 
that, in public prosecutions, men of 
wealth, however clearly convicted, 
are always safe. This opinion, so injurious 
[to your order, so detrimental to the state, it 
is now in your power to refute. A man is 
on trial before you who is rich, and he hopes 
his riches will compass his acquittal; but 
whose life and actions are his sufficient con- 
demnation in the eyes of all candid men. I 
speak of Caius Verres, who, if he now receive 



not be through the lack of a criminal or of a 
prosecutor, but through the failure of the 
ministers of justice to do their duty. 

Passing over the shameful irregularities of 
his youth, what does the quaestorship ot 
Verres exhibit but one continued scene of 
villanies ? The public treasure squandered, 
a consul stripped and betrayed, an army 
deserted and reduced to want, a province 
robbed, the civil and religious rights of a 



228 



ORATIONS BY FAMOUS ORATORS. 



people trampled on ! But his praetorship in 
Sicily has crowned his career of wickedness, 
and completed the lasting monument of his 
infamy. His decisions have violated all law, 
»*' precedent, all right. His extortions from 
Vwe industrious poor have been beyond com- 
'"tation. Our most faithful allies have been 
Seated as enemies. Roman citizens have, 
like slaves, been put to death with tortures. 
Men the most worthy have been condemned 
and banished without a hearing, while the 
most atrocious criminals have, with money, 
purchased exemption from the punishment 
iue to their guilt. 

I ask now, Verres, what have you to 
advance against these charges? Art thou 
not the tyrant Praetor, who, at no greater 
distance than Sicily, within sight of the Ital- 
ian coast, dared to put to an infamous 
death, on the cross, that ill-fated and inno- 
cent citizen, Publius Gavius Cosanus? 
And what was his offence? He had de- 
clared his intention of appealing to the 
justice of his country against your brutal 
persecutions ! 

For this, when about to embark for home, 
he was seized, brought before you, charged 
with being a spy, scourged and tortured. In 
vain did he exclaim : " I am a Roman citi- 
zen I I have served under Lucius Pretius, 



who is now at Panormus, and who will attest 
my innocence ! " Deaf to all remonstrance, 
remorseless, thirsting for innocent blood, you 
ordered the savage punishment to be in- 
flicted ! While the sacred words, "I am a 
Roman citizen," were on his lips — words, 
which, in the remotest regions, are a pass- 
port to protection — you ordered him to death 
— to a death upon the cross ! 

O liberty! O sound once delightful to 
every Roman ear! O sacred privilege of 
Roman citizenship ! once sacred — now tram- 
pled on ! Is it come to this ? Shall an in- 
ferior magistrate — a governor, who holds his 
whole power of the Roman people — in a 
Roman province, within sight of Italy, bind, 
scourge, torture, and put to an infamous death, 
a Roman citizen ? Shall neither the cries 
of innocence expiring in agony, the tears of 
pitying spectators, the majesty of the Roman 
commonwealth, nor the fear of the justice of 
his country, restrain the merciless monster, 
who, in the confidence of his riches, strikes 
at the very root of liberty, and sets mankind 
at defiance? And shall this man escape? 
Fathers, it must not be ! It must not be un- 
less you would undermine the very founda- 
tions of social safety, strangle justice, and 
call down anarchy, massacre, and ruin on the 
commonwealth. 



Humorous Recitations. 



A recitation that has a touch of humor, 
one that is quaint and droll, one that has 
comical situations, or one that hits off any 
popular absurdity, is sure to be well received 
by your audience. A school exhibition or an 
evening's entertainment without something of 
this kind would be pronounced dull and dry. 

Some readers are especially adapted to re- 
citals of this description. They have an in- 



nate sense of the ludicrous and are able to 
convey it by voice and manner. Those who 
are not favored with the very desirable gift 
of humor should confine themselves to selec- 
tions of a graver character. The department 
of Wit and Humer here presented is large 
and complete, containing a great variety ot 
readings that cannot fail to be enthusiasti- 
cally received when properly rendered. 



<?$?>■ 



BILL'S IN TROUBLE! 



S'VE got a letter, parson, from my son away 
out West, 
An' my ol' heart is heavy as an anvil in 
my breast, 
To think the boy whose futur' I had once so 

proudly planned 
Should wander from the path o' right an' come 
to sich an end ! 

Bill made a faithful promise to be keerful, an' 

allowed 
He d build a reputation that'd make us mighty 

proud, 
But it seems as how my counsel sort o' faded 

from his mind, 
An' now the boy's in trouble o' the very wustest 

kindl 



His letters came so seldom that I somehow sort 

o' knowed 
That Billy was a-trampin' on a mighty rocky 

road, 
But never once imagined he would bow my heaf 

in shame, 
An' in the dust'd waller his ol' daddy's honoree* 

name. 

He writes from out in Denver, an' the story's 

mighty short ; 
I just can't tell his mother ; it'll crush her poor 

o'l heart ! 
An' so I reckoned, parson, you might break the 

news to her — 
Bill's in the Legislatur, but he doesn't sav what 

fur. 



I 



" SPACIALLY JIM." 



WUS mighty good-lookin' when I was 
young, 
Peert an' black-eyed an' slim, 
With fellers a courtin' me Sunday nights, 
'Spacially Jim. 



The likeliest one of 'em all was he, 
Chipper an' han'som' an' trim, 
But I tossed up my head an' made fun o' the 
crowd, 
'Spacially Jim I 

229 



230 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



I said I hadn't no 'pinion o' men, 
An' I wouldn't take stock in him ! 

But they kep' up a-comin' in spite o' my talk, 
'Spacially Jim ! 

I got so tired o* havin' 'em roun' 
('Spacially Jim 1) 



I made up my mind I'd settle down 
An' take up with him. 

So we was married one Sunday in church, 
'Twas crowded full to the brim ; 

'Twas the only way to get rid of 'em all, 
'Spacially Jim. 



THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY. 



Be careful, in all dialect recitations, to enunciate as 
brought out in the accent, and you should study this until 



the piece requires, 
you are master of it. 



A good part of the humor » 



"^Su 



OU promise now, you goot man dere, 
Y\ Vot shtunds upon de floor, 

To take dis woman for your vrow, 
And luff her efermore ; 
You'll feed her well on sauerkraut, 

Beans, buttermilk and cheese, 
And in all dings to lend your aid 
Vot vill promote her ease ? 



—Yah! 



Yes, and you, good voman, too — 
Do you pledge your vord dis day 

Dat you vill take dis husband here 
And mit him alvays shtay ? 

Dat you vill bet and board mit him, 
Vash, iron and mend his clothes j 



Laugh when he schmiles, veep when he sighs, 

Und share his joys and voes ? 

— ^ah! 
Vel, den, mitin these sacred halls, 

Mit joy and not mit grief, 
I do bronounce you man and vifs ; 

Von name, von home, von beef 1 
I publish now dese sacred bonts, 

Dese matrimonial dies, 
Pefore mine Got, mine vrow, minezelf 

Und all dese gazing eyes. 

Und now, you pridegroom standing d»^ 

I'll not let go yoz collar 
Undil you dell me one ding more, 

Dat ish: vere ish mine tollar? 



BLASTED HOPES. 




E said good-bye ! My lips to hers were 
pressed. 
We looked into each other's eyes and 
sighed ; 
I pressed the maiden fondly to my breast, 
And went my way across the foamy tide. 

I stood upon the spot where Caesar fell, 
I mused beside the great Napoleon's tomb ; 

I loitered where dark-visaged houris dwell, 
And saw the fabled lotus land abloom. 

I heard Parisian revelers, and so 

Forgot the maiden who had wept for me ; 

[ saw my face reflected in the Po, 
And saw Italian suns sink in the sea. 



Aweary of it all, at last, I turned 

My face back to my glorious native land j 

I thought of her again — my bosom burned— 
And joyfully I left the ancient strand. 

At last, I held her little hand again, 

But, oh, the seasons had kept rolling on, 

I did not stroke her head or kiss her then — 
Another had appeared while I was gone. 

I'd brought her trinkets from across the sea — 
Ah, well ! she shall not have them now, ot 
course ; 

Alas ! the only thing that's left for me 
Is to give her little boy a hobby horse ? 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



235 



TIM MURPHY MAKES A FEW REMARKS. 

A good specimen of the Irish brogue and wit. 



I SAW Teddy Reagan the other day ; he 
told me he had been dealing in hogs. 
" Is business good ?" says I. " Yis," 
says he. " Talking about hogs, Teddy, how 
do you find yourself?" sez I. I wint to buy 
a clock the other day, to make a present to 
Mary Jane. " Will you have a Frinch clock ?" 
says the jeweler. "The deuce take your 
Frinch clock," sez I. " X want a clock that 
my sister can understand when it strikes." 
"I have a Dutch clock," sez he, "an' you 
kin put that on the shtairs." " It might run 
down if I put it there," sez I. "Well," sez 
he, " here's a Yankee clock, with a lookin'- 
glass in the front, so that you can see your- 
self," sez he. " It's too ugly," sez I . "Thin 
I'll take the lookin'-glass out, an' whin you 
look at it you'll not find it so ugly," sez 
he. 

I wint to Chatham Sthreet to buy a shirt, 
for the one I had on was a thrifle soiled. The 
Jew who kept the sthore looked at my bosom, 
an' said: " So hellup me gracious ! how long 
do you vear a shirt ?" " Twinty-eight inches," 
sez I. " Have you any fine shirts ?" sez I. 
"Yis," sez he. "Are **»*•• "\ne?" says I. 



" Yis," sez he. " Thin you had better put 
one on," sez I. 

You may talk about bringin' up childer in 
the way they should go, but I believe in 
bringing them up by the hair of the head. 
Talking about bringing up childer — I hear 
my childer's prayers every night The other 
night I let thim up to bed without thim. I 
skipped and sthood behind the door. I heard 
the big boy say : " Give us this day our daily 
bread." The little fellow said: "Sthrike him 
for pie, Johnny." I have one of the most 
economical boys in the Citty of New York ; 
he hasn't spint one cint for the last two years. 
I am expecting him down from Sing Sing 
prison next week. 

Talking about boys, I have a nephew who, 
five years ago, couldn't write a word. Last 
week he wrote his name for #10,000; he'll 
git tin years in the pinatintiary. I can't 
write, but I threw a brick at a policeman 
and made my mark. 

They had a fight at Tim Owen's wake last 
week. Mary Jane was there. She says, barrin' 
herself, there was only one whole nose left ir, 
the party, an' that belonged to the tay-kettle. 



PASSINQ OF THE HORSE. 



f DROVE my old horse, Dobbin, full slowly 
toward the town, 
One beautiful spring morning. The rising 
sun looked down 
And saw us slowly jogging and drinking in the 

balm 
Of honeyed breath of clover fields. We lissed, 

in Nature's calm, 
To chirping squirrel, and whistling bird, the robin 

and the wren ; 
The sound of life and love and peace came o'er 
the fields again. 



'Way back behind the wagon there came a tan- 
dem bike, 1 

A pedaling 'long to beat the wind, I never saw 
the like. 

They started by — the road was wide, old Dobbin 
feeling good, I 

The quiet calmness of the morn had livened up 
his mood, 

And stretching out adown the road he chased 
these cyclers two, 

And Dobbin in his younger days was distanced 
by but few. 



232 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



We sped along about a mile, it was a merry chase, 

But Dobbin gave it up at last, and, dropping from 
the race, 

He looked at me, as if to say: " Old man, I'm 
in disgrace. 

The horse is surely passing by, the bike has got 
his place." 

And all that day, while in the town, old Dob- 
bin's spirits fell ; 

His stout old pride was broken sure j the reason 
I could tell. 



But when that night we trotted back from town, 
below the hill 

We met two weary cyclers who waved at us a bill 

That had a big V on it, and said it would be 
mine 

If I would let them ride with us and put their bike 
behind, 

And so I whistled softly ; and Dobbin winked at 
me, 

" I guess the horse will stay, old man ; he's punc- 
ture proof — you see?" 



A SCHOOL=DAY. 

Don't overdo the whimpering and crying, but make the facial expressions and imitate the sobbing of 
jne in tears. Make use of a handkerchief to render the imitation more effective. 

A 




k OW, John," the district teacher says 
With frown that scarce can hide 

The dimpling smiles around her 
mouth, 

Where Cupid's hosts abide, 
"What have you done to Mary Ann, 
That she is crying so ? 
Don't say 'twas ' nothing '■ — don't, I say, 
For, John, that can't be so ; 

"For Mary Ann would never cry 

At nothing, I am sure ; 
And if you've wounded justice, John, 

You know the only cure 
Is punishment ! So, come, stand up ; 

Transgression must abide 
The pain attendant on the scheme 

That makes it justified." 

So John steps forth with sun-burnt face, 

And hair all in a tumble, 
His laughing eyes a contrast to 

His drooping mouth so humble. 
" Now, Mary, you must tell me all — 

I see that John will not, 
And if he's been unkind or rude, 

I'll whip him on the spot." 

" W— we were p — playin' p — pris'ner' s b— base, 
An' h — he is s — such a t — tease, 
\n' w — when I w — wasn't 1 — lookin', m — 
ma'am' 
H — he k — kissed me — if you please." 



Upon the teacher's face the smiles 
Have triumphed o'er the frown, 

A pleasant thought runs through her mind. 
The stick comes harmless down. 

But outraged law must be avenged 1 

Begone, ye smiles, begone ! 
Away, ye little dreams of love, 

Come on, ye frowns, come on ! 
"I think I'll have to whip you, John, 

Such conduct breaks the rule ; 
No boy, except a naughty one, 

Would kiss a girl — at school." 

Again the teacher's rod is raised, 

A Nemesis she stands — 
A premium were put on sin, 

If punished by such hands ! 
As when the bee explores the rose 

We see the petals tremble, 
So trembled Mary's rosebud lips — 

Her heart would not dissemble. 

"I wouldn't whip him very hard" — 

The stick stops in its fall — 
"It wasn't right to do it, but — 

It didn't hurt at all ! " 
"What made you cry, then, Mary Ann?" 

The school's noise makes a pause, 
And out upon the listening air, 

From Mary comes — " Because ! " 

W. F. McSparb in. 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 
THE BICYCLE AND THE PUP. 



283 



(J3 I IS a bicycle man, over his broken wheel, 
* I That grieveth himself full sore, 
^*- For the joy of its newness his heart shall 

feel, 
Alack and alas ! no more. 

When the bright sun tippeth the hills with gold, 

That rider upriseth gay, 
And with hat all beribboned and heart that is 
bold, 

Pursueth his jaunty way. 

He gazeth at folks in the lowly crowd 

With a most superior air. 
He thinketh ha ! ha ! and he smile th aloud 

As he masheth the maiden fair. 



Oh, he masheth her much in his nice new clothe^ 

Nor seeth the cheerful pup, 
Till he roots up the road with his proud, proud 
nose, 

While the little wheel tilteth up. 

Oh, that youth on his knees — though he doth 
not pray — 

Is a pitiful sight to see, 
For his pants in their utterest part give way, 

While merrily laugheth she. 

And that bicycle man in his heart doth feel 
That the worst of unsanctified jokes 

Is the small dog that sniffeth anon at his wheel, 
But getteth mixed up in the spokes. 



THE PUZZLED CENSUS TAKER. 

Before reciting this state to your audience that " nein " is the German for " nq " 




■* ) OT any boys? " the marshal said, 
* i» To a lady from over the Rhine ; 
And the lady shook her flaxen head, 
And civilly answered " nein ! " 

"Got any girls? " the marshal said, 
To that lady from over the Rhine ; 
And again the lady shook her head, 
And civilly answered " nein ! " 

"But some are dead," the marshal said 
To the lady from over the Rhine ; 
And again the lady shook her head, 
And civilly answered " nein ! " 



"Husband, of course ? " the marshal said 
To the lady from over the Rhine ; 
And again she shook her flaxen head, 
And civilly answered " nein ! " 

"The duce you have ! " the marshal said 
To the lady from over the Rhine ; 
And again she shook her flaxen head, 
And civilly answered ' ' nein ! " 

"Now what do you mean by shaking your head 
And always answering ' ' nein ? ' ' 

"Ich kann nicht Englisch," civilly said 
The lady from over the Rhine. 



IT MADE A DIFFERENCE. 




k OW, then," said the short and fat 
and anxious-looking man as he 
sat down in the street car and 
unfolded a map he had just 
bought of a fakir. " I want to know how 
this old thing works. Let me first find the 
Philippine Islands and Manila. Here I am, 
and here is Ca-vitt." 



" I beg your pardon, sir," said the man on 
his left, " but that name is pronounced Kah- 
vee-tay." 

"Then why ain't it spelled that way?" 
demanded the short and fat man. " No 
wonder Dooye has been left there a whole 
month without reinforcements when they 
mix up things that way." 



234 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



" You mean Dewey," corrected the man 
on his right. 

" I heard it called Dooye, sir." 

" But it isn't right." 

" Then why don't this map give it right ? 
Is it the plan of our map-makers to bam- 
boozle the American patriot? Let us turn 
to Cuba. Ah ! here is that San Jew-an they 
are talking so much about." 

" Will you allow me to say that the name 
is pronounced San Wan?" softly observed 
the man on the left. 

"By whom, sir?" 

" By everybody." 

" I deny it, sir ! " exclaimed the fat man. 
" If J-u-a-n don't spell ' Juan ' then I can't 
read. If I am wrong then why don't this 
map set me right ? Is it the idea to mix up 
the American patriot until he can't tell 
whether he's in Cuba or the United States?" 

"Where is that Ci-en-fue-gos I've read 
about?"- 

" Do you wish for the correct pronuncia- 
tion of that name ? " asked a man on the 
other side of the car. 

"Haven't I got it?" 



" Not exactly, sir." 

" Then let her slide. The men who goi 
out this map ought to be indicted for swind- 
ling. Maybe I'm wrong in calling it Ma- 
tan- zas ? " 

" It is hardly correct, sir." 

"And I'm off on Por-to Ri-co?" 

" Just a little off." 

" That settles it, sir — that settles it ! " said 
the short man as he folded up the map and 
tossed it away on the street. " I had a 
grandfather in the Revolutionary War, a 
father in the war with Mexico, and two 
brothers in the late Civil War, and I was 
going to offer my services to Uncle Sam in 
this emergency; but it's off, sir — all off." 

" But what difference does the pronuncia- 
tion make ? " protested the man on the right. 

"All the difference in the world, sir. My 
wife is tongue-tied and my only child has 
got a hair-lip, and if I should get killed 
neither one of them would be able to ever 
make any one understand whether I poured 
out my blood in a battle in Cuba or was run 
over by an ice-wagon in front of my own 
house ! " 



BRIDGET O'FLANNAGAN ON CHRISTIAN SCIENCE AND 

COCKROACHES. 




CH, Mollie Moriarty, I've been havin' 
the quare iksparyincis since yiz hur- 
rud from me, an' if I'd known how 
it wud be whin I lift ould Oireland, I'd nivir 
have sit fut intil this coonthry befoor landin*. 
Me prisint misthriss that I had befoor the 
lasht wan is a discoiple av a new koind av 
relijun called Christian Soience. She's been 
afthur takin' a sooccission av coorsis av cool- 
chur (I belave that's fwhat they call it), an' 
she knows all aboot this Christian Soience. 

I've hurrud her talkin' wid the other ladies 
About moind an' matther, an' as will as I can 



undherstand, Christian Soience manes that 
iverything is all moind an' no matther, or all 
matther an' nivir moind, an' that ivery wan's 
nobody, an' iverything's nothing ilse. The 
misthriss ses there's no disase nor trooble, 
an' no nade av physic ; nivirthiliss, whin she 
dishcoovered cockroaches intil the panthry, 
she sint me out wid the money to buy an 
iksterminatin' powdher. 

Thinks I to mesilf, " I'll give thim roaches 
a dose av Christian Soience, or fwhat the 
ladies call an ' absint thratemint.' " So I 
fixed the powers av me moind on the mid* 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



23* 



dlesoom craythers an' shpint the money till 
me own binifit. Afther a few days the mis- 
thriss goes intil the panthry, an' foinds thim 
roaches roonin' 'round as if they'd nivir been 
kilt at all. I throied to iksplain, but wid the 
inconsishtency av her six she wouldn't listhin 
till a worrud, but ses I was addin' imperti- 



nince to desaving'. So I'm afther lookin' 
fur a place, an' if yiz know av any lady wid- 
out notions that do be bewildherin' to me 
moind, address, 

Miss Bridget O'Flannagan, 

Post Office, Ameriky. 
M. Bourchier. 



■@\><?©> 



a 




CONVERSATIONAL. 

OW'S your father?" Came the whis- 
per, 
Bashful Ned the silence break- 



ing; 

Oh, he's nicely," Annie murmured, 
Smilingly the question taking. 

Conversation flagged a moment, 



Hopeless, Ned essayed another : 
" Annie, I — I," then a coughing, 

And the question, " How's your mother ! 



" Mother? Oh, she's doing nicely! " 
Fleeting fast was all forbearance, 
When in low, despairing accents 
Came the climax, " How's your parents? '•' 






WANTED, A MINISTER'S WIFE. 



ANTED, a perfect lady, 
Delicate, gentle, refined, 
With every beauty of person 
And every endowment of mind ; 
Fitted by early culture 

To move in a fashionable life. 

Please notice our advertisement : 

" Wanted, a minister's wife." 

Wanted, a thoroughbred worker, 

Who well to her household looks 
(Shall we see our money wasted 

By extravagant, stupid cooks?) 
Who cuts the daily expenses 

With economy as sharp as a knife, 
And washes and scrubs in the kitchen. 

" Wanted, a minister's wife." 

A very domestic person. 

To " callers" she must not be " out;" 
It has such a bad appearance 

For her to be gadding about. 
Only to visit the parish 

Every day of her life, 
And attend the funerals and weddings. 

"Wanted, a minister's wife." 



Conduct the ladies' meeting, 

The sewing-circle attend , 
And when we work for the needy, 

Her ready assistance to lend. 
To clothe the destitute children 

Where sorrow and want are rife ; 
To hunt up Sunday-school scholars. 

" Wanted, a minister's wife." 

Careful to entertain strangers, 

Traveling agents, and " such ; " 
Of this kind of " angel visits" 

The leaders have had so much 
As to prove a perfect nuisance, 

And " hope these plagues of their life 
Can soon be sent to their parson's." 

" Wanted, a minister's wife." 

A perfect pattern of prudence 

To all others, spending less, 
But never disgracing the parish 

By looking shabby in dress. 
Playing the organ on Sunday 

Would aid our laudable strife 
To save the society's money. 

" Wanted, a minister's wife." 



336 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



HOW A MARRIED MAN SEWS ON A BUTTON. 



IT is bad enough to see a bachelor sew 
on a button, but he is the embodiment 
of grace alongside a married man. 
Necessity has compelled experience in the 
case of the former, but the latter has de- 
pended upon some one else for this service, 
and fortunately for the sake of society, it is 
rarely he is obliged to resort to the needle him- 
self. Sometimes the patient wife scalds her 
"ight hand, or runs a sliver under the nail of 
trie index finger of that hand, and it is then the 
man clutches the needle around the neck, 
and, forgetting to tie a knot on the thread, 
commences to put on the button. 

It is always in the morning, and from five 
?o twenty minutes after this he is expected 
>••> be down street. He lays the button on 
Exactly the site of its predecessor, and pushes 
the needle through one eye, and carefully 
draws the threap after, leaving about three 
inches of it sticking up for leeway. He says 
to himself, " Well, if women don't have the 
easiest time I ever see." 

Then he comes back the other way and 
gets the needle through the cloth easy 
enough, and lays himself out to find the eye, 
but, in spite of a great deal of patient jabbing, 
the needle point persists in bucking against 
the solid parts of the button, and finally, 
when he loses patience, his fingers catch the 
thread, and that three inches he has left to 



hold the button slips through the eye in a 
twinkling, and the button rolls leisurely 
across the floor. He picks it up without a 
single remark, out of respect for his chil- 
dren, and makes another attempt to fasten it. 
This time, when coming back with the 
needle, he keeps both the thread and button 
from slipping, by covering them with his 
thumb ; and it is out of regard for that part 
of him that he feels around for the eye in a 
very careful and judicious manner, but even- 
tually losing his philosophy as the search 
becomes more and more hopeless, he falls to 
jabbing about in a loose and savage manner, 
and it is just then the needle finds the open- 
ing and comes up the button and part way 
through his thumb with a celerity that no 
human ingenuity can guard against. Then 
he lays down the things with a few familiar 
quotations, and presses the injured hand be- 
tween his knees, and then holds it under the 
other arm, and finally jams it into his mouth, 
and all the while he prances and calls upon 
heaven and earth to witness that there has 
never been anything like it since the world 
was created, and howls, and whistles, and 
moans and sobs. After a while he calms 
down and puts on his pants and fastens them 
together with a stick, and goes to his busi- 
ness a changed man. 

J. M. Bailey. 



THE DUTCHMAN'S SERENADE. 

You do not need any set tune for the words to be sung. It will be more amusing to have none, but to 
.'xtemporize as you go along. Stop singing when you come to the words in parenthesis and speak them. 
To complete the impersonation, you should have a violin. Do not recite German dialect pieces too rapidly, 
the words should be pronounced very distinctly. 




rt.K£ up, my schveet ! Vake up, my lofe ! 
Der moon dot can't been seen abofe. 
Vake oud your eyes, und dough it's late, 
I'll make you oud a serenate. 



Der shtreet dot's kinder dampy vet, 
Und dhere vas no goot blace to set ; 
My fiddle's getting oud of dune, 
So blease get vakey wery soon. 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



237 



Sing 



Sing. 



O my lofe ! my lofely lofe ! 
Am you avake ub dhere abofe, 
Feeling sad und nice to hear 
Schneider's fiddle schrabin near? 

Veil, anyvay, obe loose your ear, 
Und try to saw if you kin hear 
From dem bedclose vat you'm among, 
Per little song I'm going to sung : 

( O lady ! vake ! Get vake f 

Und hear der tale I'll tell ; 
f O you vot's schleebin' sound ub dhere, 
(^ I like you pooty veil ! 

J Your plack eyes dhem don't shine 
I When you'm ashleep — so vake ! 
(Yes, hurry upp, and voke up quick, 
For gootness gracious sake !) 



r My schveet imbatience, lofe, 
Sing. < I hope you vill excuse ; 

(. I'm singing schveetly (dhere, py Jinks I 
Dhere goes a shtring proke loose !) 

r O putiful, schveet maid ! 
Sing. < O vill she ever voke ? 

C Der moon is mooning — ( Jimminy ! dhei . 
Anoder shtring vent proke l\ 

I say, you schleeby, vake ! 

Vake oud ! Vake loose ! Vake ub ! 
Fire ! Murder ! Police ! Vatch ! 

O cracious ! do vake ub ! 

Dot girl she schleebed — dot rain it raine*. 

Und I looked shtoopid like a fool, 
Vhen mit my fiddle I shneaked off 

So vet und shlobby like a mool 1 



BIDDY'S TROUBLES. 



If this selection were recited in the costume of a housemaid, with apron, sunbonnet and bare arms 
the effect would be intensified. Place the hands on the hips except when gesticulating. 



'T'S thru for me, Katy, that I never seed 
the like of this people afore. It's a 
time I've been having since coming 
to this house, twelve months agone this week 
Thursday. Yer know, honey, that my fourth 
coosin, Ann Macarthy, recommended me to 
Mrs. Whaler, and told the lady that I knew 
about genteel housework and the likes ; while 
at the same time I had niver seed inter an 
American lady's kitchen. 

" So she engaged me, and my heart was 
jist ready to burst wid grief for the story that 
Ann had told, for Mrs. Whaler was a swate- 
spoken lady, and never looked cross-like in 
her life ; that I knew by her smooth, kind 
face. Well, jist the first thing she told me to 
do, after I dressed the children, was to dress 
the ducks for dinner. I stood looking at the 
lady for a couple of minutes, before I could 
make out any maneing at all to her words. 

" Thin I went searching after clothes for the 
ducks ; and such a time as I had, to be sure. 



High and low I went till at last my mis 
tress axed me for what I was looking ; an** 
I told her the clothes for the ducks, to be surf 
Och, how she scramed and laughed, till m^ 
face was as rid as the sun wid shame, and she 
showed me in her kind swate way what her 
maneing was. Thin she told me how to air 
the beds ; and it was a day for me, indade, r when 
I could go up chamber alone and clare up the 
rooms One day Mrs. Whaler said to me : 

" ' Biddy, an' ye may give the baby av 
airin', if yees will.' 

" What should I do — and it's thru what I 
am saying this blessed minute — but go up- 
stairs wid the child, and shake it, and then 
howld it out of the winder. Such a scraming 
and kicking as the baby gave — but I hild on 
the harder. Everybody thin in the strate 1, 
looked at me ; at last misthress came up to 
see what for was so much noise. * 

" ' I am thrying to air the baby,' I said, 
' but it kicks and scrames dridfully.' 



238 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



"There was company down below; and 
whin Mrs. Whaler told them what I had been 
after doing, I thought they would scare the 
folks in the strate wid scraming. 

" And then I was told I must do up Mr. 
Whaler's sharts one day when my mistress 
was out shopping. She told me repeatedly 
to do them up nice, for master was going 
away, so I takes the sharts and did them all 
up in some paper that I was after bringing 
from the ould country wid me, and tied some 
nice pink ribbon around the bundle. 

•»-t=3>| 



" ' Where are the sharts, Biddy ? ' axed 
Mrs. Whaler, when she corned home. 

" ' I have been doing them up in a quair 
nice way,' I said, bringing her the bundle. 

" ' Will you iver be done wid your grane- 
ness ! ' she axed me with a loud scrame. 

" I can't for the life of me be tellin' what 
their talkin' manes. At home we call the 
likes of this fine work starching ; and a deal 
of it I have done, too. Och ! and may the 
blessed Vargin pity me, for I never'll be 
cured of my graneness ! " 



THE INVENTOR'S WIFE. 

IT'S easy to talk of the patience of Job. 
Humph ! Job hed nothin' to try him ! 
Ef he'd been married to 'Bijah Brown, 
folks wouldn't have dared come nigh 
him. 
Trials, indeed ! Now I'll tell you what — ef you 

want to be sick of your life, 
Jest come and change places with me a spell — 
for I'm an inventor's wife. 



And sech inventions ! I'm never sure, when I 

take up my coffee-pot, 
That 'Bijah hain't been " improvin' " it, and it 

mayn't go off like a shot. 
Why, didn't he make me a cradle once, that 

would keep itself a-rockin' ; 
And didn't it pitch the baby out, and wasn't his 

head bruised shockin' ? 

And there was his " Patent Peeler," too — a won- 
derful thing, I'll say ; 

But it hed one fault — it never stopped till the 
apple was peeled away. 

As for locks, and clocks, and mowin' machines, 
and reapers, and all sech trash, 

Why, 'Bijah's invented heaps of em, but they 
don't bring in no cash. 

Law! that don't worry him — not at all; he's 

the aggravatin'est man — 
He'll set in his little workship there, and whistle, 

and think, and plan. 



Inventin' a jew's-harp to go by steam, or a new- 
fangled powder-horn, 

While the children's goin' barefoot to school and 
the weeds is chokin' our corn. 



When I've been forced to chop the wood, and 

tend to the farm beside, 
And look at 'Bijah a-settin there, I've jest 

dropped down and cried. 
We lost the hull of our turnip crop while he was 

inventin' a gun ; 
But I counted it one of my marcies when it bust 

before 'twas done. 

So he turned it into a "burglar alarm." It 

ought to give thieves a fright — 
'Twould scare an honest man out of his wits, ef 

he sot it off at night. 
Sometimes I wonder ef 'Bijah's crazy, he does 

such cur'ous things. 
Hev I told you about his bedstead yit? — 'Twas 

full of wheels and springs ; 

It. had a key to wind it up, and a clock face at 

the head ; 
All you did was to turn them hands, and at any 

hour you said, 
That bed got up and shook itself, and bounced 

you on the floor, 
And then shet up, jest like a box, so you couldn't 

sleep any more 



HUMOROUS kECITATIONS. 



23 J* 



Wa'al 'Bijah he fixed it all complete, and he sot 

it at half-past five, 
Bu^ he hadn't more'n got into it when — dear 

me ! sakes alive I 
Them wheels began to whiz and whir ! I heerd a 

fearful snap ! 
And there was that bedstead, with 'Bijah inside, 

shet up jest like a trap ! 

!l screamed, of course, but 'twan't no use; then 

I worked that hull long night 
A.-tiyin' to open the pesky thing. At last I got 

in a fright ; 



I couldn't hear his voice inside, and I thought he 

might be dyin ; 
So I took a crow-bar and smashed it in. — There 

was 'Bijah, peacefully lyin', 

Inventin' a way to git out again. That was all 
very well to say, 

But I don't b'lieve he'd have found it out if I'd 
left him in all day. 

Now, sence I've told you my story, do you 
wonder I'm tired of life ? 

Or think it strange I often wish I warn't an in- 
ventor's wife ? Mrs. E. T. Corbett. 



MISS EDITH HELPS THINGS ALONG. 




\Y sister'll be down in a minute, and 
says you're to wait, if you please ; 
And says I might stay till she 
came, if I'd promise her never 
to tease, 
Nor speak till you spoke to me first. But that's 

nonsense; for how would you know 
What she told me to say, if I didn't? Don't 
you really and truly think so? 

"And then you'd feel strange nere alone. And 

you wouldn't know just where to sit ; 
For that chair isn't strong on its legs, and we 

never use it a Lit : 
We keep it to match with the sofa; but Jack 

says it would be like you 
To flop yourself right down upon it, and knock 

out the very last screw. 

" Suppose you try ! I won't tell. You're afraid 
i to! Oh! you're afraid they would think it 

was mean ! 
Well, then, there's the album : that's pretty, if 

you're sure that your fingers are clean. 
For sister says sometimes I daub it ; but she only 
\ says that when she's cross, 
rrhere's her picture. You know it ? It's like 

her ; but she ain't as good-looking, of course. 

"This is me. It's the best of 'em all. Now, tell 

me, you'd never have thought 
that once I was little as that? It's the only 

one that could be bought »• 



For that was the message to pa from the photo- 
graph-man where I sat — 

That he wouldn't print off any more till he first 
get his money for that. 

" What? Maybe you're tired of waiting. Why, 

often she's longer than this. 
There's all her back hair to do up, and all of 

her front curls to friz. 
But it's nice to be sitting here talking like grown 

people, just you and me ! 
Do you think you'll be coming here often? Oh, 

do I But don't come like Tom Lee — 

"Tom Lee, her last beau. Why, my goodness! 

he used to be here day and night, 
Till the folks thought he'd be her husband ; and 

Jack says that gave him a fright ; 
You won't run away then, as he did? for you're 

not a rich man, they say. 
Pa says you're poor as a church-mouse. Now, 

are you ? and how poor are they ? 

"Ain't you glad that you met me? Well, I am; 

for I know now your hair isn't red ; 
But what there is left of it's mousy, and not what 

that naughty Jack said. 
But there ! I must go ; sisrer's coming ! But I 

wish I could wait, just to see 
If she ran up to you, and she kissed you in the 

way she used to kiss Lee.'' 

Bret Harte. 



240 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



THE MAN WHO HAS ALL DISEASES AT ONCE. 

imitate the cough. Put your hands on different parts of your body in describing your aches and pains. 
Wear a long dismal face. Bend forward and limp as you change your position. 

/^ToOD -MORNING, Doctor; 



how do 

<\ '*> I you do ? I hain't quite as well as 
I have been ; but I think I'm some 
better than I was. I don't think that last 
medicine that you gin me did me much 
good. I had a terrible time with the ear- 
ache last night ; my wife got up and drapt a 
few draps of walnut sap into it, and that re- 
lieved it some ; but I didn't get a wink of 
sleep till nearly daylight. For nearly a 
week, Doctor, I've had the worst kind of a 
narvous headache ; it has been so bad some- 
times that I thought my head would bust 
open. Oh, dear! I sometimes think that I'm 
the most afflictedest human that ever lived. 

Since this cold weather sot in, that trouble- 
some cough, that I have had every winter 
for the last fifteen years, has began to pester 
me agin. {Coughs?) Doctor, do you think 
you can give me any thing that will relieve 
this desprit pain I have in my side ? 

Then I have a crick, at times, in the back of 
my neck, so that I can't turn my head with- 
out turning the hull of my body. {Coughs?) 

Oh, dear ! What shall I do ? I have con- 
sulted almost every doctor in the country, 
but they don't any of them seem to under- 
stand my case. I have tried everything that 
I could think of; but I can't find anything 
that does me the least good. {Coughs?) 

Oh, this cough — it will be the death of me 
yet ! You know I had my right hip put out 
last fall at the rising of Deacon Jones' saw- 
mill ; it's getting to be very troublesome just 



before we have a change of weather. Then 
I've got the sciatica in my right knee, and 
sometimes I'm so crippled up that I can 
hardly crawl round in any fashion. 

What do you think that old white mare of 
ours did while I was out plowing last week ? 
Why, the weaked old critter, she kept a back* 
ing and backing, ontil she backed me right 
up agin the colter, and knock'd a piece of 
skin off my shin nearly so big. {Coughs?) 

But I had a worse misfortune than that the 
other day, Doctor. You see it was washing- 
day — and my wife wanted me to go out and 
bring in a little stove-wood — you know we lost 
our help lately, and my wife has to wash and 
tend to everything about the house herself. 

I knew it wouldn't be safe for me to go 
out — as it was raining at the time — but I 
thought I'd risk it anyhow. So I went out, 
picked up a few chunks of stove-wood, and 
was a coming up the steps into the house, 
when my feet slipped from under me, and I 
fell down as sudden as if I'd been shot. 
Some of the wood lit upon my face, broke 
down the bridge of my nose, cut my upper 
lip, and knocked out three of my front teeth. 
I suffered dreadfully on account of it, as you 
may suppose, and my face ain't well enough 
yet to make me fit to be seen, 'specially by 
the women folks. {Coughs.) Oh, dear! but 
that ain't all, Doctor ; I've got fifteen corns 
on my toes — and I'm afeard I'm going to 
have the " yaller janders." {Coughs) 

Dr. Valentine. 



THE SCHOOL-MA'AM'S COURTING. 




HEN Mary Ann Dollinger got the skule 
daown thar on Injun Bay 
I was glad, fer I like ter see a gal 
makin' her honest way. 



I heerd some talk in the village abaout her nyin* 

high, 
Tew high fer busy farmer folks with chores tei 

dew ter fly. 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



241 



But I paid no sorter attention ter all the talk 

ontel 
She come in her reg'lar boardin' raound ter visit 

with us a spell. 
My Jake an' her had been cronies ever since they 

could walk, 
An' it tuk me aback ter hear her kerrectin' him 

in his talk. 

Jake ain't no hand at grammar, though he hain't 

his beat for work ; 
But I sez ter myself, "Look out, my gal, yer 

a-foolin' with a Turk 1" 
Jake bore it wonderful patient, an' said in a 

mournful way, 
He p'sumed he was behindhand with the doin's 

at Injun Bay. 
2 remember once he was askin' for some o' my 

Injun buns, 
A.n' she said he should alius say, " them air," stid 

o' " them is " the ones. 
Wal, Mary Ann kep' at him stiddy mornin' an' 

evenin' long, 



Tell he dassent open his mouth for fear o' talkin' 
wrong. 

One day I was pickin' currants daown by the old 

quince tree, 
When I heerd Jake's voice a-sayin': "Be ye willin' 

ter marry me ?" 
An' Mary Ann kerrectin', "Air ye willin', yeou 

sh'd say." 
Our Jake he put his foot daown in a plum, decided 

way, 
" No wimmen-folks is a-goin' ter be re-arrangin' 

me. 
Hereafter I says ' craps,' ' them is,' * i calk'late,' 

an' 'I be.' 
Ef folks don't like my talk they needn't hark ter 

what I say ; 
But I ain't a-goin' to take no sass from folks from 

Injun Bay. 
I ask you free an' final : Be ye goin' ter marry 

me?" 
An' Mary Ann sez, tremblin', yet anxious-like, 

" I be." Florence E. Pyatt. 



THE DUTCHMAN'S SNAKE. 



r^NEAR the town of Reading, in Berks 
County, Pennsylvania, there form- 

LiS ^ erly lived a well-to-do Dutch 
farmer named Peter Van Riper. His only 
son was a strapping lad of seventeen, also 
named Peter, and upon old Peter and young 
Peter devolved the principal cares of the old 
man's farm, now and then assisted by an an- 
cient Dutchman named Jake Sweighoffer, 
ivho lived in the neighborhood, and went out 
to work by the day. 

One warm day in haying time this trio 
were hard at work in a meadow near the 
farm-house, when suddenly Peter the elder 
dropped his scythe and called out : 

"Oh! mine gracious, Peter! Peter!" 

"What's de matter, fader ?" answered the 
son, straightening up and looking at his 
sire. 

(16— x) 



"Oh! mine Peter! Peter!" again cried the 
old man, " do come here, right off! Der 
schnake pite mine leg !" 

If anything in particular could disturb the 
nerves of young Peter, it was snakes ; for he 
had once been chased by a black one and 
frightened nearly out of his wits. At the 
word snake, therefore, young Van Riper fell 
back, nimbly as a wire-drawer, and called 
out in turn : " Where is der shnake, fader?" 

" Here, up mine preeches! — Oh! my! my! 
my!" 

" Vy don't you kill him, fader ?" exclaimed 
Peter, junior, keeping at a safe distance from 
his suffering sire. 

" I can't get at der little sinner, Peter ; you 
come dake off my drowsis, or he'll kill me 
mit his pites." 

But the fears of Peter, the younger, over- 



242 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



came his filial affection, and lent strength to 
his legs, for he started off like a scared two- 
year-old toward the old man Jake, to call him 
to the assistance of his unhappy father. A 
few moments after, the two came bounding 
toward the old man, and as they passed a 
haycock where their garments had been laid 
when they began work, Jake grabbed the 
vest which he supposed belonged to his em- 
ployer. During this time old Peter had 
managed to keep on his feet, although he 
was quaking and trembling like an rspen 
leaf in a June gale of wind. 

" Oh ! come quick, Yacob f" exclaimed he, 
" he pite like sixty, here, on mine leg." 

Old Jake was not particularly sensitive to 
fear, but few people, young or old, are free 
from alarm when a " pizenous " reptile is 
about. He seized a small pitchfork, and, 
telling the unhappy Van Riper to stand 
steady, promised to stun the reptile by a rap 
or two, even if he didn't kill it outright. The 
frightened old man did not long hesitate be- 
tween the risk of a broken leg or being bit- 
ten to death by a snake, but promptly indi- 
cated the place where Jake should strike 
Whack went the pitchfork, and down tum- 
bled Peter, exclaiming, "Oh! my! my! myt 
I pleeve you've proke mine leg ! but den der 
shnake's gone." 

"Vere! vere's he gone to?" says old 
Sweighoffer, looking sharply about on the 
ground he stood upon. 

" Never mind der shnake now, Yacob," 
says Van Riper," come and help me up, and 
I'll go home." 

" Here, I've got your shacket — put it on," 
says Jacob, lifting up the old man, and 
slipping his arms into the armholes of the 
vest. 

The moment old Peter made the effort to 
get the garment on his shoulders, he grew 
livid in the face — his hair stood on end — he 
shivered and shook — his teeth chattered, and 



his knees knocked an accompaniment. " O 
Yacob ! " exclaimed he, " help me to go home 
—I'm dead ! I'm dead ! " 

"Vat's dat you say? Ish dere nodder 
shnake in your preeches ? " inquired the in- 
trepid Jacob. 

" Not dat — I don't mean dat," says the 
farmer, "but shust you look on me — I'm 
shwelt all up, pigger as an ox ! my shacket 
won't go on my pack. I'm dying mit de 
pizen. Oh ! oh ! oh ! help me home quick." 

The hired man came to the same conclu- 
sion ; and with might and main he hurried 
old Peter along toward the farm-house. 
Meantime young Peter had run home, and so 
alarmed the women folks that they were in a 
high state of excitement when they saw the 
approach of the good old man and his 
assistant. 

Old man Peter was carried into the house, 
laid on a bed, and began to lament his sad 
misfortune in a most grievous manner, when: 
the old lady, his frow, came forward and 
proposed to examine the bitten leg. The 
unhappy man opened his eyes and feebly 
pointed out the place of the bite. She care- 
fully ripped up his pantaloons, and out fell — 
a thistle-top ! and at the same time a consid- 
erable scratch was made visible. 

" Call dis a shnake ? Bah ! " says the old 
lady, holding up the thistle. 

" Oh ! but I'm pizened to death, Katreen ! 
— see, I'm all pizen ! — mine shacket ! — Oh ! 
dear, mine shacket not come over mine 
pody ! " 

" Haw ! haw ! you crazy fellow," roars the 
frow, " dat's not your shacket — dat's Peter's 
shacket! ha! ha! ha!" 

"Vat! dat Peter's shacket?" says old 
Peter, shaking off death's icy fetters at one 
surge, and jumping up : " Bosh ! Jacob, vat 
an old fool you must be to say I vas shnake- 
pite ! Go 'pout your pusiness, gals. Peter, 
give me mine pipe." 






HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



343 



NO KISS. 




ISS me, Will," sang Marguerite, 
To a pretty little tune, 

Holding up her dainty mouth, 
Sweet as roses born in June. 
Will was ten years old that day, 

And he pulled her golden curls 
Teasingly. and answer made — 
" I'm too old— I don't kiss girls." 



Ten years pass, and Marguerite 

Smiles as Will kneels at her feet, 
Gazing fondly in her eyes, 

Praying, " Won't you kiss me, sweet? " 
'Rite is seventeen to-day, 

With her birthday ring she toys 
For a moment, then replies : 

" I'm too old — I don't kiss boys." 



THE LISPING LOVER. 




M ! tnta) one moment, love implorth, 
Ere yet we break thith happy thpell ! 
For to the thoul my thoul adorth 
It ith tho hard to thay farewell. 

And yet how thad to be tho weak, 

To think forever, night or day, 
The thententheth my heart would thpeah. 

Thethe lipth can never truly thay. 

How mournful, too, while .thuth I kneel, 
With nervouthneth my blith to mar, 



And dream each moment that I feel 
The boot-toe of thy thtern papa. 

Or yet to fanthy that I hear 

A thudden order to decamp, 
Ath dithagreeably thevere 

Ath — "Get out you infernal thcamp ! " 

Yet recklethly I pauthe by thee, 

To lithp my hopeth, my fearth, my careth, 
Though any moment I may be 

Turning a thomerthel down the thtairth f 



LARRIE O'DEE. 




OW the widow McGee, 
And Larrie O'Dee, 

Had two little cottages out on the 
green, 

With just room enough for two pig-pens between. 
The widow was young and the widow was fair, 
With the brightest of eyes and the brownest of 

hair; 
And it frequently chanced, when she came ih the 

morn 
With the swill for her pig, Larrie came with the 

corn. 
And some of the ears that he tossed from his 

hand, 
In the pen of the widow were certain to land. 

One morning said he : 
" Och ! Misthress McGee, 



It's a waste of good dumber, this runnin' two 

rigs, 
Wid a fancy petition betwane our two pigs ! ' ' 
" Indade sur, it is ! " answered Widow McGee, 
With the sweetest of smiles upon Larrie O'Dee. 
"And thin, it looks kind o' hard-hearted and 
mane, 
Kapin' two friendly pigs so exsaidenly near 
That whiniver one grunts the other can hear, 
And yit kape a cruel petition betwane." 

" Shwate Widow McGee," 
Answered Larrie O'Dee, 
" If ye fale in your heart we are mane to the pigs, 
Ain't we mane to ourselves to be runnin' two 

rigs? 
Och ! it made me heart ache whin I paped 
through the cracks 



244 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



Of me shanty, lasht March, at yez shwingin' yer 

axe; 
An' a bobbin' yer head an' a shtompin' yer fate, 
Wid yer purty white hands jisht as red as a bate, 
A-sphlittin' yer kindlin'-wood out in the shtorm, 
When one little shtove it would kape us both 

warm ! ' ' 

" Now, piggy," said she ; 
" Larrie's courtin' o' me, 



Wid his dilicate tinder allusions to you, 

So now yez must tell me jisht what I must do : 

For, if I'm to say yez, shtir the swill wid yei 

snout ; 
But if I'm to say no, ye must kape yer nose out. 
Now Larrie, for shame ! to be bribin' a pig 
By a-tossin' a handful of corn in its shwig ! ' 
" Me darlint, the piggy says yes," anwered he. 
And that was the courtship of Larrie O'Dee. 

W. W. Fink. 



HOW PADEREWSKI PLAYS THE PIANO. 



*IRST a soft and gentle tinkle, 

Gentle as the rain-drop's sprinkle, 
Then a stop, 
Fingers drop. 
Now begins a merry trill, 
Like a cricket in a mill ; 
Now a short, uneasy motion, 
Like a ripple on the ocean. 

See the fingers dance about, 
Hear the notes come tripping out j 
How they mingle in the tingle 
Of the everlasting jingle, 
Like to hailstones on a shingle, 
Or the ding-dong, dangle-dingle 
Of a sheep-bell ! Double, single. 
Now they come in wilder gushes, 
Up and down the player rushes, 
Quick as squirrels, sweet as thrushes. 

Now the keys begin to clatter 
Like the music of a platter 
When the maid is stirring batter. 



THE FRECKLE=FACED GIRL. 



O'er the music comes a change, 

Every tone is wild and strange ; 

Listen to the lofty tumbling, 

Hear the mumbling, fumbling, jumbling, 

Like the rumbling and the grumbling 

Of the thunder from its slumbering 

Just awaking. Now it's taking 

To the quaking, like a fever-and-ague shaking ; 

Heads are aching, something's breaking — 

Goodness gracious ! it is wondrous, 

Rolling round, above, and under us, 

Like old Vulcan's stroke so thunderous. 

Now 'tis louder, but the powder 

Will be all exploded soon ; 

For the only way to do, 

When the music's nearly through, 

Is to muster all your muscle for a bang, 

Striking twenty notes together with a clang : 

Hit the treble with a twang, 

Give the bass an awful whang, 

And close the whole performance 

With a slam — bang — whang 1 

i s * » 




|A'S up stairs changing her dress," 
said the freckled-faced little 
girl, tying her doll's bonnet 
strings and casting her eye about for a tidy 
large enough to serve as a shawl for that 
double-jointed young person. 

"Oh, your mother needn't dress up for 



me," replied the female agent of the mis- 
sionary society, taking a self-satisfied view 
of herself in the mirror. " Run up and tell 
her to come down just as she is in her every- 
day clothes, and not stand on ceremony." 

" Oh, but she hasn't got on her everyday 
clothes. Ma was all dressed up in her new 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



24ft 



brown silk dress, 'cause she expected Miss 
Dimmond to-day. Miss Dimmond always 
comes over here to show off her nice things, 
and ma doesn't mean to get left. When ma 
saw you coming she said, ' the dickens ! ' and 
I guess she was mad about something. Ma 
said if you saw her new dress, she'd have to 
hear all about the poor heathen, who don't 
have silk, and you'd ask her for money to 
buy hymn books to send 'em. Say, do the 
nigger ladies use hymn-book leaves to do 
their hair up on and make it frizzy ? Ma 
says she guesses that's all the good the books 
do 'em, if they ever get any books. I wish 
my doll was a heathen." 

" Why, you wicked little girl ! what do 
you want of a heathen doll ? " inquired the 
missionary lady, taking a mental inventory 
of the new things in the parlor to get ma- 
terial for a homily on worldly extravagance. 

" So folks would send her lots of nice things 
to wear, and feel sorry to have her going 
about naked. Then she'd have her hair to 
frizz, and I want a doll with truly hair and 
eyes that roll up like Deacon Silderback's 
when he says amen on Sunday. I ain't a 
wicked girl, either, 'cause Uncle Dick — you 
know Uncle Dick, he's been out West and 
swears awful and smokes in the house — he 
says I'm a holy terror, and he hopes I'll be 
an angel pretty soon. Ma'll be down in a 
minute, so you needn't take your cloak off 
She said she'd box my ears if I asked you to. 

" Ma's putting on that old dress she had 
last year, 'cause she didn't want you to 



think she was able to give much this time, 
and she neeced a muff worse than the queen 
of the cannon-ball islands needed 'ligion. 
Uncle Dick says you oughter get to the 
islands, 'cause you'd be safe there, and the 
natives would be sorry they was such sin- 
ners anybody would send you to 'em. He 
says he never seen a heathen hungry enough 
to eat you, 'less it was a blind one, an' you'd 
set a blind pagan's teeth on edge so he'd 
never hanker after any more missionarv 
Uncle Dick's awful funny, and makes ma 
and pa die laughing sometimes." 

" Your Uncle Richard is a bad, depraved 
wretch, and ought to have remained out 
West, where his style is appreciated. He sets 
a horrid example for little girls like you." 

" Oh, I think he's nice. He showed me 
how to slide down the banisters, and he's 
teaching me to whistle when ma ain't around. 
That's a pretty cloak you've got, ain't it? 
Do you buy all your clothes with missionary 
money ? Ma says you do." 

Just then the freckle-faced little girl's ma 
came into the parlor and kissed the mission- 
ary lady on the cheek and said she was de- 
lighted to see her, and they proceeded to 
have a real sociable chat The little girl's 
ma cannot understand why a person who 
professes to be so charitable as the mission- 
ary agent does should go right over to Miss 
Dimmond's and say such ill-natured things 
as she did, and she thinks the missionary is 
a double-faced gossip. The little girl under- 
stands it better than her ma does. 



f: 



WHEN GIRLS WORE CALICO. 



HERE was a time, betwixt the days 

Of linsey woolsey, straight and prim, 
And these when mode, with despot ways, 
Leads woman captive at its whim, 
Yet not a hundred years ago, 
When girls wore simple calico 



Within the barn, by lantern light, 

Through many a reel, with flying feet, 
The boys and maidens danced at night 
To fiddled measures, shrilly sweet ; 
And merry revels were they, though 
The girls were gowned in calico. 



246 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



Across the flooring rough and gray 

The gold of scattered chaff was spread, 
And long festoons of clover hay 
That straggled from the loft o'erhead, 
Swung scented fringes to and fro 
O'er pretty girls in calico. 

They used to go a-Maying then, 

The blossoms of the spring to seek 
In sunny glade and sheltered glen, 
Unweighed by fashion's latest freak ; 
And Robin fell in love, I know, 
With Phyllis in her calico. 



A tuck, a frill, a bias fold, 

A hat curved over gipsy-wise, 
And beads of coral and of gold, 
And rosy cheeks and merry eyes, 
Made lassies in that long ago 
Look charming in their calico. 

The modern knight who loves a maid 

Of gracious air and gentle grace, 
And finds her oftentimes arrayed 
In shining silk and priceless lace, 
Would love her just as well, I know, 
In pink and lilac calico. 

Hattie Whitnev 



A WINNING COMPANY. 



| F gran'paw was a soldier now 
He'd show 'em what to do ; 

You ought to come and lisen how 
He talks to me and Sue. 

He tells us all about the days 

He led his gallant men, 
And all about the different ways 

He won the battles then. 



An' ev'ry night when paw comes in 

An' says the fight's begun, 
He tells what they could do to win 
Er what they ought to done. 

An' paw he laugh and looks at me 
An' says we'd surely win it 

If gran'paw led a company 
An' Sue an' me was in it. 



THE BRAVEST SAILOR OF ALL. 



This graceful tribute to the martial spirit of the little tots should be recited in a slightly bombastic style. 
The little one considers himself quite a hero and should be described accordingly. 

fKNOW a naval officer, the bravest fighting 
man ; 



He wears a jaunty sailor suit, his cap says 
" Puritan." 
And all day long he sails a ship between our 

land and Spain, 
And he avenges, every hour, the martyrs of the 
"Maine." 

His warship is six inches square, a wash-tub 

serves for ocean ; 
But never yet, on any coast, was seen such dire 

commotion. 
With one skilled move his boat is sent from 

Cuba to midsea, 
And just as quickly back it comes to set Havana 

free. 



He fights with Dewey; plants his flag upon each 

island's shore, 
Then off with Sampson's fleet he goes to shed the 

Spanish gore. 
He comes to guard New England's coast, but ere 

his anchor falls, 
He hurries off in frightful speed, to shell Manila's 

walls. 

i 

The Philippines so frequently have yielded to his 
power, 

There's very little left of them, I'm certain, at 
this hour ; 

And when at last he falls asleep, it is to wake again 

And hasten into troubled seas and go and con- 
quer Spain. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 
HOW SHE WAS CONSOLED. 



247 




UT in the field in the red o' the rain 
That crimsoned the breasts that th« 

battle had slain, 
He lay in the shadow — the captain— at 
rest, 
With a lock of gold hair round a face on his 
breast. 

Out in the darkness, all pallid and dumb, 

A. woman waits long for the captain to come; ' 



And she kisses his portrait. O, pitiful pain ! 
She shall kiss not the lips of the captain again I 

But a woman's a woman, though loyal and 

brave, 
Love fareth but ill in the gloom of a grave. 
The captain lies mute 'neath the stars and the 

snow, 
And the woman he loved — well, she's married. 

you know I 



Wl 



THAT HIRED GIRL. 



HEN she came to work for the fam- 
ily on Congress street, the lady of 
the house sat down and told her 
that agents, picture-sellers, peddlers, rag- 
men, and all that class of people must be met 
at the front door and coldly repulsed, and 
Sarah said she'd repulse them if she had to 
break every broomstick in town. 

And she did. She threw the door open 
wide, bluffed right up at 'em, and when she 
got through talking, the cheekiest agent was 
only too glad to leave. It got so after a 
while that peddlers marked that house, and 
the door-bell never rang except for com- 
pany. 

The other day, as the girl of the house was 
wiping off the spoons, the bell rang. She 
hastened to the door, expecting to see a lady, 
but her eyes encountered a slim man, dressed 
'n black and wearing a white necktie. He 
was the new minister, and was going around 
to get acquainted jvith the members of his 
flock, but Sarah wasn't expected to know 
this. 

" Ah— um— is— Mrs. — ah ! • 

" Git 1 " excl?4med Sarah, pointing to the 
gate. 

" Beg pardoa, hnt I woujd like to see — 
see — I "' 



" Meander ! " she shouted, looking around 
for a weapon ; " we don't want any flour- 
sifters here ! " 

" You're mistaken," he replied, smiling 
blandly. <* I called to—" 

" Don't want anything to keep moths 
away — fly ! " exclaimed Sarah, getting red in 
the face. 

" Is the lady in ? " he inquired, trying to 
look over Sarah's head. 

" Yes, the lady is in, and I'm in, and you 
are out 1 " she snapped ; " and now I don't 
want to stand here talking to a fly-trap agent 
any longer t Come lift your boots I " 

"I'm not an agent," he said, trying to 
smile. " I'm the new — " 

" Yes, I know you — you are the new man 
with the patent flat-iron, but we don't want any, 
and you'd better go before I call the dog I " 

" Will you give the lady my card, and say 
that I called ? " 

" No, I won't ; we are bored to death with 
cards and handbills and circulars. Come, I 
can't stand here all day." 

" Didn't know that I was a minister ? " he 
asked, as he backed off 

" No, nor I don't know it now ; you look 
like the man who sold the woman next door 
a ten cent chromo for two dollars. r 



248 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



" But here is my card." 

" I don't care for cards, I tell you ! If you 
leave that gate open, I will have to fling a 
flower-pot at you ! " 

" I will call again," he said, as he went 
through the gate. 

" It won't do any good ! " she shouted 



after him ; " we don't want no prepared foc^f 
for infants — no piano music — no stuffed 
birds ! I know the policeman on this beat, 
and if you come around here again, he'll soon 
find out whether you are a confidence man 
or vagrant 1 " 

And she took unusual care to lock the door 



WHAT SAMBO SAYS. 



f^OW, in dese busy wukin' days, dey's 
changed de Scripter fashions, 
An' you needn't look to mirakuls to 
furnish you wid rations ; 
Now, when you's wantin' loaves o' bread, you 

got to go and fetch 'era, 
An' ef you's wantin' fishes, you mus' dig your 

wums an' ketch 'em ; 
For you kin put it down as sartin dat the time is 

long gone by, 
When sassages an' 'taters use to rain fum out de sky ! 

I nebber likes de cullud man dat thinks too much 

o' eatin' ; 
But frolics froo de wukin* days, and snoozes at 

de meetin' ; 
Dat jines de Temp'ance 'Ciety, an' keeps a gettin' 

tight, 
An' pulls his water-millions in de middle ob de 

night ! 
Oese milerterry nigger chaps, with muskets in 

deir han's. 



Perradin' froo de city to de music ob de ban's, 

Had better drop deir guns, an' go to marchin' 
wid deir hoes 

An' git a honest libbin' as dey chop de cotton- 
rows, 

Or de State may put 'em arter while to drillin' in 
de ditches, 

Wid more'n a single stripe a-runnin' 'cross deir 
breeches. 

Well, you think dat doin' nuffin' 'tall is mighty 
sort o' nice, 

But it busted up de renters in de lubly Para- 
dise! 

You see, dey bofe was human bein's jes' like me 
an' you, 

An' dey couldn't reggerlate deirselves wid not a 
thing to do j 

Wid plenty wuk befo' 'em, an' a cotton crop to 
make, 

Dey'd nebber thought o' loafin' roun' an' chattir/ 
wid de snake. 



THE IRISH SLEIGH RIDE. 




«^ DON'T go way until you hear 

A story, though it may seem queer, 
Of a family known both near and far 
By the funny name of Ump Ha Ha. 

Mi' Ump Ha Ha, one day, 

Thought he would like to take a sleigh 

And ride upon the frozen snow ; 

And Mrs. Ump Ha Ha said she would go, 

Taking all the family, of course, 

Including, too, the family horse. 



He was a mule, and a thin one, too; 
You could see his ribs where the hay *tuc& 
through. 

They hitched him up to an old-time bob. 

Then you ought to have seen the mob ! 

There were Patrick, Mary Ump Ha Ha, 
Grace and Carrie Ump Ha Ha, 
Mike and Freddie Ump Ha Ha, 
Willie and Eddie Ump Ha Ha. 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



24? 



Tim and Juley Ump Ha Ha, 
Rose and Peggy Ump Ha Ha, 
Lizzie and Mayme Ump Ha Ha, 
Big fat Jammie Ump Ha Ha. 

Fifteen people in one sleigh 

Started out to spend the day. 

The way they packed and jammed them in, 

It made the family horse look thin. 

As luck will have it, as it will, 

They started from the top of a hill. 

The hill was slippery ; down they flew. 

How fast they went they never knew. 

The time they made it can't be beat. 

The old mule had no use for his feet ; 

He went like a bird or ships on sail; 



He flew with his ears and steered with his taiL 
It was a mile to the bottom and the bottom was 

mud, 
And they went down with a sickening thud. 

Mary Ump Ha Ha was dazed, 

Patrick Ump Ha Ha was crazed, 

Little Willie bumped his nose, 

Big fat Jammie she got froze. 

Fourteen doctors came at once. 

The old mule was buried in the ground. 

Did you ever see a dead mule laying around? 

It took four drays to get them home, 

And when they found they broke no bones, 

They all sat down and thanked their stars, 

And then they laughed out, Ump Ha Ha. 



JANE 

'ANE JONES keeps a-whisperin' to me all 
the time, 
An' says : ' ' Why don't you make it a rule 
To study your lessons, an' work hard an' 
learn, 
An' never be absent from school? 
Remember the story of Elihu Burritt, 

How he dumb up to the top ; 
Got all the knowledge 'st he ever had 

Down in the blacksmi'.'^in' shop." 
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so ; 

Mebby he did — I dunno ; 
'Course, what's a-keepin' me 'way from the to' 
Is not never havin' no blacksmithin' shop. 

She said 'at Ben Franklin was awfully poor, 

But full o' ambition and brains, 
An' studied philosophy all 'is hull life — 

An' see what he got for his pains. 
He brought electricity out of the sky 

With a kite an' the lightnin' an' key, 



JONES. 

So we're owin' him more'n any one else 

For all the bright lights 'at we see. 
Jane Jones she actually said it was so. 

Mebby he did — I dunno ; 
'Course, what's allers been hinderin' me 
In not havin' any kite, lightnin' or key. 

Jane Jones said Columbus was out at the knees 

When he first thought up his big scheme ; 
An' all of the Spaniards an' Italians, too, 

They laughed an' just said 'twas a dream; 
But Queen Isabella she listened to him, 

An' pawned all her jewels o' worth, 
An' bought 'im the " Santa Marier " 'n said: 

" Go hunt up the rest of the earth." 
Jane Jones she honestly said it was so; 

Mebby he did— I dunno ; 
'Course, that may all be, but you must alH* 
They ain't any land to discover just now. 



Ben Kia& 



»@X® 



DE OLE PLANTATION MULE. 



r^Y' WERRY funny feller is de ole plantation 
lit mule ; 

/j|A An' nobody' 11 play wid him unless 



he is a fool. 



De bestest ting to do w'en you meditates about 

him, 
Is to kinder sorter calkerlate you'll get along 

'vidout him. 



250 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



Wen you try to 'proach dat mule from de front 

endwise, 
He look as meek as Moses, but his looks is full 

ob lies ; 
He doesn't move a muscle, he doesn't even 

wink; 
An' you say his dispersition's better'n people 

tink. 

He stan' so still that you s'pose he is a monu- 
ment of grace ; 

An' you almos' see a 'nevolent expression on his 
face; 

But dat 'nevolent expression is de mask dat's 
allers worn ; 

For ole Satan is behin' it, jest as sure as you is 
born. 



Den you cosset him a little, an' you pat his othei 

end, 
An' you has a reverlation dat he ain't so much 

your friend; 
You has made a big mistake ; but before de heart 

repents, 
You is histed werry sudden to de odder side de. 

fence. 

Well, you feel like you'd been standin' on de 

locomotive track 
An' de engine come an' hit you in de middle ob 

de back ; 
You don' know wat has happened, you can scarcely 

cotch your breff ; 
But you tink you've made de 'quaintance ob a 

werry vi'lent deff. 



ADAM NEVER WAS A BOY. 




F all the men the world has seen 
Since time his rounds began, 
There's one I pity every day — 
Earth's first and foremost man ; 
And then I think what fun he missed 

By failing to enjoy 
The wild delights of youth-time, for 
He never was a boy. 

He never stubbed his naked toe 

Against a root or stone ; 
He never with a pin-hook fished 

Along the brook alone ; 
He never sought the bumblebee 

Among the daisies coy, 
Nor felt its business end, because 

He never was a boy. 

He never hookey played, nor tied 

The ever- ready pail, 
Down in the alley all alone, 

To trusting Fido's taii. 
And when he home from swimmin' came, 

His happiness to cloy, 
No slipper interfered, because 

He never was a boy. 



He might refer to splendid times 

'Mong Eden's bowers, yet 
He never acted Romeo 

To a six year Juliet. 
He never sent a valentine, 

Intended to annoy 
A good, but maiden aunt, because 

He never was a boy. 

He never cut a kite-string, no! 

Nor hid an Easter egg ; 
He never ruined his pantaloons 

A-playing mumble-peg ; 
He never from the attic stole, 

A coon-hunt to enjoy, 
To find " the old man " watching, for 

He never was a boy. 

I pity him. Why should I not ? 

I even drop a tear ; 
He did not know how much he missed ; 

He never will, I fear. 
And when the scenes of " other days*' 

My growing mind employ, 
I think of him, earth's only man 

Who never was a boy. 

T. C. Harbatjgh- 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



251 



A REMARKABLE CASE OF S'POSIN. 



(oYt 1 MAN hobbled into the Colonel's 

tjX office upon crutches. Proceeding to 

/JtV a chair and making a cushion of 

some newspapers, he sat down 

very gingerly, placed a bandaged leg upon 

another chair, and said : 

" Col. Coffin, my name is Briggs. I want 
to get your opinion about a little point of 
law. Now, Colonel, s'posin' you lived up 
the pike here a half mile, next door to a man 
named Johnson. And s'posin' you and John- 
son was to get into an argument about the 
human intellect, and you was to say to John- 
son that a splendid illustration of the super- 
iority of the human intellect was to be found 
in the power of the human eye to restrain the 
ferocity of a wild animal. And s'posin' John- 
son was to remark that that was all bosh, 
because nobody could hold a wild animal 
with the human eye, and you should declare 
that you could hold the savagest beast that 
was ever born if you could once fix your 
gaze on him. 

" Well, then, s'posin' Johnson was to say 
he'd bet a hundred dollars he could bring a 
tame animal that you couldn't hold with your 
eye, and you was to take him up on it, and 
Johnson was to ask you to come down to his 
place to settle the bet. You'd go, we'll say, 
and Johnson'd wander round to the back of 
the house and pretty soon come front again 
with a dog bigger'n any four decent dogs 
ought to be. And then s'posin' Johnson'd 
let go of that dog and set him on you, and 
he'd come at you like a sixteen-inch shell out 
of a howitzer, and you'd get scary about it 
and try to hold the dog with your eye and 
couldn't. 

"And s'posin' you'd suddenly conclude 
that maybe your kind of an eye wasn't cal- 
culated to hold that kind of a dog, and you'd 
conclude to run for a plum tree in order to 



have a chance to collect your thoughts and 
to try to reflect what sort of an eye would be 
best calculated to mollify that sort of a dog. 
You ketch my idea, of course ? 

" Very well, then ; s'posin' you'd take 
your eye off of that dog — Johnson, mind you, 
all the time hissing him on and laughing, and 
you'd turn and rush for the tree, and begin 
to swarm up as fast as you could. Well, sir, 
s'posin' just as you got three feet from the 
ground Johnson's dog would grab you by 
the leg and hold on like a vise, shaking you 
until you nearly lost your hold. 

" And s'posin' Johnson was to stand there 
and holloa, ' Fix your eye on him, Briggs ! 
Why don't you manifest the power of the 
human intellect ? ' and so on, howling out 
ironical remarks like those; and s'posin' he 
kept that dog on that leg until he made you 
swear to pay the bet, and then at last had to 
pry the dog off with a hot poker, bringing 
away at the same time some of your flesh in 
the dog's mouth, so that you had to be car- 
ried home on a stretcher, and to hire several 
doctors to keep you from dying with lock- 
jaw. 

" Sposin' this, what I want to know is, 
couldn't you sue Johnson for damages and 
make him pay heavily for what that dog did ? 
That's what I want to get at." 

The Colonel thought for a moment, and 
then said : 

" Well, Mr. Briggs, I don't think I could. 
If I agreed to let Johnson set the dog at me, 
I should be a party to the transaction, and I 
could not recover." 

" Do you mean to say that the law won't 
make that infernal scoundrel Johnson suffer 
for letting his dog eat me up ? " 

" I think not, if you state the case prop- 
erly." 

"It won't, hey?" exclaimed Mr. Briggs, 



252 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



hysterically. " Oh, very well, very well ! I 
t/pose if that dog had chewed me all up it'd 
Ve been all the same to this constitutional 
republic. But hang me if I don't have satis- 
faction. I'll kill Johnson, poison his dog, 



and emigrate to some country where the 
rights of citizens are protected ! " 

Then Mr. Briggs got on his crutches and 
hobbled out. He is still a citizen, and will 
vote at the next election. 



MY PARROT. 

Let your face express contempt on the word "pshaw,"' and make the gesture in Figure 24 of 
Typical Gestures. Drawl out the word "yawned" in the third verse and give a comical wink in the fourth 
verse. Prolong the sound on "pshaw" in the last line. 

I 



HAD a parrot once, an ugly bird, 
With the most wicked eye I ever saw, 

Who, though it comprehended all it heard, 
Would only say, " O pshaw ! " 



I did my best to teach it goodly lore } 
I talked to it of medicine and law | 

It looked as if it knew it all before, 
And simply said, " O pshaw ! " 

I sat me down upon a dry-goods box 
To stuff sound doctrine down its empty 
craw, 

It would have none of matters orthodox, 
But yawned and said, "O pshaw! " 

I talked to it of politics, finance ; 

I hoped to teach the bird to say " Hurrah ! " 



■^ 



0^0 



For my pet candidates when he'd a chance, 
He winked and chirped, " O pshaw ! " 

I am for prohibition, warp and woof, 

But that bird stole hard cider through a str*w, 

And then he teetered off at my reproof 
And thickly said, " O pshaw ! " 

Enraged, I hurled a bootjack, missed my aim 
And plugged a passing stranger in the jaw ; 

He wheeled to see from whence the missile came ' 
The demon laughed " O pshaw ! " 

I gave the creature to an old-maid aunt, 

And shook with parting grief its skinny claw. 
"He'll serve to cheer," she said, " my lonely 

hearth, 
For I'd not marry the best man on earth ! " 
"O pshaw!" sneered Poll, "O psha-a-w!'» 
Emma H. Webb. 



BAKIN AND GREENS. 



t6' may tell me ob pastries and fine oyster 
patties, 
Of salads and crowkets an' Boston baked 
beans, 
But dar's nuffin so temptin' to dis nigger's palate 
As a big slice of bakin and plenty ob greens. 

Jes bile 'em right down, so dey'll melt when yo' 
eat 'em ; 
Hab a big streak ob fat an' a small streak o' 
lean; 
Dar's nuffin on earf yo' kin fix up to beat 'em, 
Fur de king ob all dishes am bakin and greens. 



Den take some co'hnmeal and sif it and pat it. 

An' put it in de ashes wid nuffin between ; 
Den blow off de ashes and set right down at it, 

For dar's nuffin like ashcake wid bakin and 
greens. 

'Twill take de ole mammies to fix "em up 
greasy, 
Wid a lot ob good likker and dumplin's be- 
tween, 
Take all yo' fine eatin', I won't be uneasy, 
If you'll gimme dat bakin wid plenty «»4 
greens. 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



253 



Rich folks in dar kerrage may frow de dust on me ; 

But how kin I envy dem men ob big means. 
Dey may hab de dispepsey and do' they may 
scorn me, 
Dey can't enjoy bakin wid a dish ob good 
greens. 



You may put me in rags, fill my cup up wid sor- 
row; 
Let joy be a stranger, and trouble my dreams, 
But I still will be smilin', no pain kin I borrow, 
Ef you lebe me dat bakin wid plenty of 
greens. 



HUNTING A MOUSE. 



fWAS dozing comfortably in my easy- 
chair, and dreaming of the good times 
which I hope are coming, when there 
fell upon my ears a most startling scream. 
It was the voice of my Maria Ann in agony. 
The voice came from the kitchen, and to the 
Vjtchen I rushed. The idolized form of my 
Maria was perched on a chair, and she was 
flourishing an iron spoon in all directions 
and shouting " shoo," in a general manner, 
at everything in the room. To my anxious 
inquires as to what was the matter, she 
screamed, " O Joshua ! a mouse, shoo — wha 
-.shoo — a great — ya — shoo — horrid mouse* 
and — she — ew — it ran right out of the cup- 
board — shoo — go way — O Lord — Joshua — 
shoo — kill it, oh, my — shoo." 

All that fuss, you see, about one little 
harmless mouse. Some women are so afraid 
of mice. Maria is. I got the poker and set 
myself to polce that mouse, and my wife 
jumped down and ran off into another room. 
I found the mouse in a corner under the 
sink. The first time I hit it I didn't poke it 
any on account of getting the poker all 
tangled up in a lot of dishes in the sink; and 
I did not hit it any more because the mouse 
would not stay still. It ran right toward 
me, and I naturally jumped, as anybody 
would ; but I am not afraid of mice, and when 
the horrid thing ran up inside the leg of my 
pantaloons, I yelled to Maria because I was 
afraid it would gnaw a hole in my garment. 

I did not lose my presence of mind for an 
aistant. I caught the mouse just as it was 



clambering over my knee, and by pressing 
firmly on the outside of the cloth, I kept the 
animal a prisoner on the inside. I kept 
jumping around with all my might to con- 
fuse it, so that it would not think about bit- 
ing, and I yelled so that the mice would not 
hear its squeaks and come to its assistance. 
A man can't handle many mice at once to 
advantage. Besides, I'm not so spry as I was 
before I had that spine in my back and had 
to wear plasters. 

Maria was white as a sheet when she came 
into the kitchen and asked what she should 
do — as though I could hold the mouse and 
plan a campaign at the same time. I told 
her to think of something, and she thought 
she would throw things at the intruder ; but 
as there was no earthly chance for her to hit 
the mouse, while every shot took effect on 
me, I told her to stop, after she had tried two 
flat-irons and the coal-scuttle. She paused 
for breath; but I kept bobbing around. 
Somehow I felt no inclination to sit down 
anywhere. " O Joshua," she cried, " I wish 
you had not killed the cat." 

Then she got the tea-kettle and wanted to 
scald the mouse. I objected to that process, 
except as a last resort. Then she got some 
cheese to coax the mouse down, but I did 
not dare to let go, for fear it would run up. 
Matters were getting desperate. I told her 
to think of something else, and I kept jump- 
ing. Just as I was ready to faint with ex- 
haustion, I tripped over an iron, lost my 
hold, and the mouse fell to the floor, very 



254 



HUMOROUS RECITATIONS. 



dead. I had no idea a mouse could be 
squeezed to death so easy. 

That was not the end of the trouble, for 
before I had recovered my breath a fireman 
broke in one of the front windows, and a 
whole company followed him through, and 
they dragged hose around, and mussed 
things all over the house, and then the fore- 
man wanted to thrash me because the house 
was not on fire, and I had hardly got him 
pacified before a policeman came in and ar- 



rested me. Some one had run down and 
told him I was drunk and was killing Maria. 
It was all Maria and I could do, by com- 
bining our eloquence, to prevent him from 
marching me off in disgrace, but we finally 
got matters quieted and the house clear. 

Now when mice run out of the cupboard 
I go outdoors, and let Maria " shoo " them 
back again. I can kill a mouse, but the fun 
don't pay for the trouble. 

Joshua Jenkins. 



THE VILLAGE SEWING SOCIETY. 

This is a very amusing recitation when correctly rendered. The gossips make the most disparaging 
remarks about their neighbors, but are very pleasant to their faces. The words in parentheses should be 
spoken "aside ' in an undertone. A recital for one who can imitate different female voices. 




IS' JONES is late agin to-day : 
I'd be ashamed now ef 'twas me. 
Don't tell it, but I've heerd folks 
say 
She only comes to get her tea." 

"Law me ! she ne^an't want it here, 

The deacon s folks ain't much on eatin' : 
They haven't made a pie ibis year ! 
Of course, 'twon't do to be repeatin'; 

"But old Mis' Jenkins says it's true 

(You know she lives just 'cross the way, 
And sees most everything they do.) 
She says she saw 'em t'other day — *' 

" Hush, here comes Hannah ! How d'ye do ? 

Why, what a pretty dress you've got ! " 
(" Her old merino made up new : 

/know it by that faded spot.") 

" Jest look ! there's Dr. Stebbins' wife " — 
"A bran-new dress and bunnit ! — well — 
They say she leads him such a life ! 
But, there ! I promised not to tell." 

"What's that, Mis' Brown? « All friends* of 
course ; 
And you can see with your own eyes, 



That that gray mare's the better horse, 
Though gossipin' I do dispise." 

" Poor Mary Allen's lost her beau" — 
"It serves her right, conceited thing! 
She's flirted awfully, I know. 

Say have you heard she kept his ring ? " 

"Listen 1 the clock is striking six. 

Thank goodness ! then it's time for tea." 
" Now ain't that too much 1 Abby Mix 

Has folded up her work 1 Just see 1 " 

"Why can't she wait until she's told ? 

Yes, thank you, deacon, here we come.'* 
(" I hope the biscuits won't be cold : 

No coffee ? Wish I was tu hum I * 

" Do tell, Mis' Ellis ! Did you make 
This cheese ? the best I ever saw. 
Such jumbles too (no jelly cake) : 

I'm quite ashamed to take one more." 

"Good-by: we've had a first-rate time, 
And first-rate tea, I must declare. 
Mis' Ellis' things are always prime. 

(Well, next week's meetin' won't be there/'') 



MAY S1 1910 



One copy del. to Cat. Div. 



2\ \%m 



